


Dance The Light Of Day

by JJBashir



Series: Drops of Jupiter [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWF - Fandom, WWF/E, World Championship Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, There's A Lot of Unresolved OK?, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4965061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJBashir/pseuds/JJBashir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The actual real-life plan was to at all costs maintain the illusion of the two companies warring. To do that, Shane McMahon needed help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the introductory part a HUGE series, mostly revolving around Shane McMahon and Chris Jericho. See the [Collection Profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Drops_of_Jupiter/profile) for all the background information behind this series.
> 
>  **PPV/Wrestling Timeline for this chapter** :  
> March 12-19, 2001 - Vince McMahon/WWF finalize the purchase of the WCW  
> March 26, 2001(The Last broadcast of Monday Night Nitro) - Shane McMahon announces his 'purchase' of WCW behind his father's back  
> April 1, 2001: WrestleMania X-7 - Vince/Shane Street Fight

_Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet_  
_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_  
_And head back toward the Milky Way_

\--Train, 'Drops of Jupiter'

 **Tuesday - April 10, 2001**  
**10:00 AM**

"Let's get one thing straight," Shane McMahon said to the assembled group sitting in front of him. It was a fairly new staff. Some he knew from his old place of employment in Stamford, Connecticut. Some were new faces based here in Atlanta with the company he had just taken over for all intents and purposes. "I'm not looking for a 'face' here," he said. "I need an actual serious assistant. I need someone who knows hard business and who can learn THIS business quickly. Save the 'faces' and 'heels' for the storylines." 

 

Shane knew all about wrestling and storylines; as the eldest child of Vincent Kennedy and Linda McMahon, he had lived, breathed and slept storyline for years. He was embroiled in storyline right now. 

The World Wrestling Federation's (not for long if this battle with the World Wildlife Fund didn't go their way) decision to purchase World Championship Wrestling and the ramifications of that had both storyline and criticism written all over it. For storyline purposes, Shane was taking over the latter promotion, apparently rebelling against his father, choosing to go his own way and build a rival promotion. Storyline Shane wasn't the Boy Wonder or the Heir Apparent anymore; Storyline Shane had every intentions of building this business 'the right way' and making it the force to reckon with he had promised in bombshell laden Raw just before Wrestlemania.

However there was the reality of the situation. In this day and age, there was no way to hide that the WWF had effectively taken over the only promotion that had been able to compete with and push the development of its own product and a monopoly on the talent pool wasn't seen as a good thing. With no check and balance the thought was the product would grow stale, stagnant and eventually unprofitable. Ted Turner had come out ahead by unloading what had become a moneysink for him and handed it over to a rival, probably thinking that he'd just shackled him with the means of his own destruction. WWF was newly made public. The stockholders and newly formed board had no patience for waiting for results. 

The actual real-life plan was to at all costs maintain the illusion of the two companies warring. The marks, the fans who were so engrossed in the high drama of wrestling and believed everything on their television screen as 'real', would eat it up. The hard business people and the press could see it for what it was: a clever way to consolidate the talent pool and increase profits for all. There were plans in the works to create stronger training promotions, to get better scouts out to the independents circuits and internationally. There were already plans to acquire another popular promotion and place his younger sister. Stephanie, in charge of it to increase the rivalry. But that required Shane to hold up his end of the bargain and make WCW a believably viable rival promotion.

To do that, he needed help. There was too much for Shane to handle on his own, regardless of who his ego told him. He had this group of people who he had handpicked from the old offices in Stamford moved down to Atlanta, to help with the change over. Between the six-person group, they had about fifty resumes, fifty candidates for Shane to whittle through to find his right hand. There were other positions to be filled as well, but a solid assistant was his first priority.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he said, sitting down and reaching for the first resume.

 

**12:30 PM**

"Mister McMahon, are you sure this is the best way to do this?" one of his associates asked. "They're bound to recognize--"

"This is the way," Shane said. "And DON'T call me 'Mister McMahon.' That's my father." All the resumes looked good. Shane didn't want to have to interview fifty people. He wanted to take a look, let his gut tell him what was right.

"Mister--Shane, I think this is a mistake."

"I know you do, Michael," Shane said, taking a slow walk past the room where the interviewees sat. They were all given the same time to arrive. Shane wanted them to sweat a little, see the competition they were up against. This was a brutal business, and the winners were the one who persevered. He wanted to see what his actual interview pool was because his background was visual and you didn't scout on paper and he didn't have 'tape' he could review. 

"Why do they always wear black?" Shane mused absently. There were too many archetypes; too many efficient little mice, too many eager fresh faces. The men looked too affected, trying too hard to look tough. The women were too demure or too sexy. They were all milling around, drinking coffee, shooting each other looks of apprehension or intimidation. What were they thinking? 'Look at how many of us are there?' 'I'm so much better than that one.' 'Not THAT GUY again.'

Shane was ready to walk back to his office when the door opened once again.

 

Not black.

Not grey.

Peach.

 

Warm, soft peach. An efficient walk marked by tiny clicks from matching pumps. A a book tucked under an efficient looking arm and a soft briefcase slung over her shoulder. She stopped; double-checked the room number, looked through the window of the door as she regarded everyone in the room. She shrugged. She entered the room confidently. She got a cup of coffee, excused herself around several people and sat down in the nearest empty seat to read her book. Shane strained to see the cover. He was expecting to see Jackie Collins or maybe a Harlequin Romance cover.

What he saw was 'Hannibal, Enemy of Rome'.

If nothing else piqued his interest, that did. Shane covered his mouth with his hand, his index finger nudged under his nose. He watched her, he watched the reaction of the people in the room to her for a few minutes longer. More people came into the room. Some looked at her, most didn’t. Shane didn't see them enter. He was watching her. Watching her read her book. Not phased. Not affected.

"Her." Shane jerked his chin towards the pastel figure of tranquility in his created tempest. "That's the one. In the peach suit. I want her."

"Are you sure, Shane? We should--"

"Do what you have to. In the interest of fairness," Shane cut Michael off. He smiled at using one of his father's catch phrases despite himself. "But I want her in my office in an hour and a half. Got that?"

"Yes sir, Mister McMahon."

Shane fought the automatic reply as he stalked off.

 

 

**2:00 PM**

"Excuse me, Ms.?"

Josie looked up. "It's Miss," she said. "Donnelly. Josephine Donnelly."

"If you'll follow me, Miss Donnelly." The man held a hand out towards the open doorway she'd seen several others enter prior to this. "Mister McMahon will see you now."

Josie nodded her head. _'What the hell company is this again?'_ she prodded in her head. She had six interviews this week, and three of them were today. She’d lost track. _'Is this the entertainment one? No, that was last week--oh no this is the NEW entertainment company, just moved.'_ The name 'McMahon' reminded her it was Thursday. _'Footage from Wrestlemania, goody.'_ She'd been a wrestling fan for years and even during the dark days of job hunting, it was one of the few things that kept her somewhat happy.

 

Shane sat at his desk, trying to look imposing and not incredibly bored out of his mind. The other four people he interviewed had the best resumes in his team's opinions; he offered three of them jobs in various division in WCW. But even then, it was too many of the right words, the right terminology, the right so-called attitude. They weren't personal assistant material. Specifically, not HIS personal assistant material. He needed someone as tough and relentless as himself. He needed another workaholic, someone who could look at things from a purely business perspective and determine how well it would work. He needed a sounding board made of ironwood.

 

"Mister McMahon, Miss Donnelly is here to see you," Michael announced from the anteroom.

"Send her in, Michael," Shane said. He shuffled the resumes on his desk around. Donnelly, the Harvard business grad, the one who had spent time at several advertising agencies in the Boston and Atlanta areas. Tenay said she was overqualified but Shane could use someone overqualified with connections. She was the last of the 'dream' resumes before he was to meet Miss Peach Suit. Shane was still trying to find said resume and finally gave up when the door opened.

 

Josie chuckled to herself when she’d been fetched to interview and told that she had been requested specifically based on what she was wearing. Again the suit had worked its wonders. "Mister McMahon asked to see you specifically, Miss Donnelly," the man who had introduced himself as Michael had said. "The girl in the peach suit." She ran one hand along her suit skirt. 'Not bad for a six year old suit,' she mused, as she opened the door. She did it on purpose. She wanted to show she wasn’t afraid to stand out professionally. Pastels weren’t a power color. But when everyone was wearing navy, black or other jewel tones, a pink or pale blue--or peach--got noticed.

Josephine Donnelly had worked a long time to 'get noticed'. She suffered from 'corporatitis' as a friend of hers liked to say. She was a rare natural blonde, dark in spots, lighter in others. Hazel eyes, a near to five-foot-six, too smart, too driven, too intense. A poor Irish kid from Morgan Park Chicago who got to Smith and Harvard on scholarships and worked her way to a stellar career in advertising before her pride and arrogance got her in trouble. She was trying to rebuild. She needed to rebuild. And this was her first step.

 

She stopped dead in her tracks as she spied the figure sitting at the desk in the office she'd been escorted into. Her mouth opened in awe and disbelief for a moment before she snapped it shut again.

Shane looked up when the door opened. "Hi, Miss Donnelly." He smiled as his eyes traveled up. PEACH. "I'm--"

"Shane McMahon," she finished for him. _'This is surreal. This isn't real. No way in hell is this real.'_ "Um, Mister McMahon. A pleasure, sir," she recovered, holding out her hand to shake.

Shane raised his eyebrow. "You know who I am, huh?" he asked, taking her proffered hand. He readjusted his grip for her firm handshake. 'Jesus! She could give Joanie a run. Hell she could give VINCE a run with that grip.' Shane liked it. She was startled, she recovered, she was back in her groove. She sat in the chair in front of his desk, her knees drawn tight, her book in her lap.

"Interesting book there," he commented as he sat down in his own chair.

Josie shrugged. "Hannibal is loaded with applicable lessons for business. Especially this business," she said. That why she couldn't remember the name. It had been one of those 'Company Confidential's she had been given by her placement agency. Otherwise she might not have submitted her resume for herself.

"How so?" Shane asked her.

She tilted her head, forming the answer. "The man made prisoners fight each other to the death to rally his troops," she said. "He researched his adversaries, learned their strengths, learned their weaknesses, and laid his traps accordingly. He was the perfect general...except for one thing."

"Which was?" Shane loved what he was hearing.

"He didn't hit the kill shot when he had the chance," she replied. "He waited and it cost him and ultimately, Carthage. The lesson, ALWAYS go for the kill. Always."

Shane nodded. "You never answered my question. You know who I am?"

"Yes, sir. I watch wrestling. My granddad was a huge fan." Again her head tilted to the side. "May I ask a question?"

"Fire away," Shane replied.

"Is this all real...or is it just part of the swerve?" She waved her hand around her head, motioning to the office. Even a casual fan knew about the so-called purchase of World Championship Wrestling by Shane McMahon from under his father’s nose. It was a clever marketing ploy, one she could have easily come up with on her own in her former life. But she needed a job and being part of some wrestling storyline wasn't going to help her pay her bills.

"Swerve?"

"The angle. The storyline." Josie leaned forward. "I'm not a complete mark, Mister McMahon. I'm not looking to be out of a job in six months. I'd rather not waste either of our time if I am. I need a job, a viable one."

Shane smiled. He had gotten all of the previous four to admit they watched wrestling, even on a casual basis. None had the balls to full out ask if the interview was part of a swerve. "Oh, trust me, Miss Donnelly," he said, picking up his phone. "Being out of a job is something YOU'RE never going to have to worry about again."

 

 

 **April 16, 2001**  
**8:58 AM**

Shane placed the single peach rose its vase on his new assistant's desk. The brass nameplate had just arrived. She had wanted it simple. 'Miss Donnelly' was all it said. There was something different about this one. She was ruthless and she had the brainpower to be in HIS job, with that degree list. He's spend the time between the offer letter being sent to her agency and today studying everything he could get his hands on about the woman about to spend the majority of her day sitting in his front office and there were too many things that didn't connect.

"Good Morning, Mister McMahon." 

 

He turned. Peach had merged into robin's egg blue in a similar cut as the suit she had interviewed in. He glanced at his watch. "Very punctual. I like that."

"I took the liberty of researching the Nielsen ratings for Nitro, Thunder, Raw and Smackdown for the last six months," she said without preamble or acknowledgment of his statement. She placed her briefcase down next to her desk, shifted her nameplate from the left side of the desk and placed it in the center. She looked quizzically at the rose in its vase and before Shane could say a word, she picked the vase up, complete with rose in it and dropped them in the trash basket.

"What the..."

"While I appreciate the gesture, Mister McMahon, but I came to work. Not to be decoration for your front office."

Shane looked at her quizzically as she pulled out a bundle of papers from her case. "Most women would be thrilled that their boss bought them flowers for their first day," he said with a slight frown on his face.

"I'm not most women," she replied. "If you'd care to see the trends that Nitro and Thunder were in before the sale?"

"Um, I'll take that, thanks," Shane said, holding out his hand. He had plenty of experience deciphering Nielsen Ratings, of course, but it was still impressive that it was the first thing she brought him. "Take this morning easy, set everything up the way you need it to be," he said nervously.

"I'm assuming I'm responsible for scheduling your meetings and personal appearances as well, Mister McMahon?" Josie almost allowed herself a grin. She’d studied up on what was expected of a personal executive assistant. 

"Um, yeah. And don't call me that," Shane said. "'Mister McMahon' is my father. Call me Shane."

"I'm sorry, Mister McMahon. I can't do that."

Shane blinked. "Excuse me?"

Josie strode behind her desk to turn the computer on. "I wo--can't call by name. It isn't proper."

Shane shook his head. "What century are you operating in?" he asked incredulously. "Most bosses are on first name basis with--"

"Mister McMahon. Once again, I am not one of those people."

Shane blinked, then looked at his watch. It was 9:15. She had set her desk up, handed him what looked like a weekend's worth of research and told him off twice in seventeen minutes. _'This is the beginning of something beautiful,'_ he thought. With a smirk, he said aloud, "Well then. I'll be in my office, Miss Donnelly. I'll set up a link to my schedule on your computer."

She was already sitting, tapping away on her already turned-on computer as he made his way into the inner office. "Is your computer named 'gfruit'?"

"Um, yeah?"

"I'm there already, then," she said. "I'll find the appropriate files in the shared folder?"

"UM. Yeah. Thanks. Later." Shane retreated to his office. "Holy shit," he breathed as soon as he got the door closed.

 

**12:30 PM**

Shane stretched in his chair. He had spent his morning with the ratings and comparing them to the figures that the research team had given him the week before week for projected ratings for the new broadcasts. He sighed. It was going to take a lot more work than he had expected to make WCW viable, much less competitive with his father's company. He knew what his mother Linda and the rest of the board wanted to happen in a fairly short space of time, but the only way to describe the current state of the promotion was that WCW was a hot mess. The WWF had already pinched a fair number of WCW staples in the two years priot to 'the sale' and it wasn't going to be easy to try and get the majority of them back knowing his father. _'Sucks, this so SUCKS.'_

He rolled his head, wincing from the ache it sent up. 'Damned choke slam,' he complained in his head. He was getting his ass kicked every other time he showed up on WWF and that was to be expected to move the storyline forward but some of the 'beatings' were starting to feel a little too 'real'. That's because you're a naive bastard. You should KNOW no matter what the old man takes this shit too personally.' Now, he had a 'Last Man Standing' match against Show. _'SUCKS, sucks, so full of SUCK,'_ he complained internally.

"Mister McMahon?" he heard over the intercom. "It's twelve-thirty. Would you like some lunch?"

"Um, no. I'm fine, Miss Donnelly. You go on ahead," he replied.

Shane's office door opened and the afore-heard Miss Donnelly appeared carrying a tray with sandwiches, a glass, a bottle of cranberry juice and an apple. "I took the liberty of ordering your lunch from the cafeteria, sir," she said as if he hadn't even said anything before.

"You didn't have to."

"Working on an empty stomach isn't the best thing for you." She placed the tray on his desk. "You have a two o'clock with Creative and a three-thirty with the web design team. There really isn't a better time of you to fit in lunch and coffee doesn't count." Josie looked at her notes for a moment. "Pardon my forwardness, Mister McMahon, but aren't you taking on quite a bit of responsibility?"

"It's what bosses do," Shane replied.

"Excuse me, sir. That's what control freaks do. You don't strike me as the control freak type."

Shane looked up.

"You're not in your father's organization anymore, sir. You can and MUST delegate some of this responsibility to other people. People that you trust to take care of things."

He really wanted to sigh because it was the exact same thing is mother had told him right when he started. And the week after that. And every week since. "A, I haven't learned enough about people to figure out who to trust with what," he pointed out, his favorite excuse popping out without hesitation. "B--"

"B, you'll be burnt out in a month and worthless to everyone." Josie gave Shane a firm look. "Of course, I am sure there is a fair number of people are counting on. Your workaholic tendencies to drive you and this organization into the ground."

"Look, Miss Donnelly," Shane said heatedly (mostly heated because she was right hand he hated being told he was wrong about anything), "I don't need some rookie telling me how to run my--"

"Then give me five minutes to write my resignation and you can go back and hire one of the cows you herded me in that room with." Josie smirked at the look of shock on Shane's face. "I'm NOT a sheep, Mister McMahon. I DO have a brain, I DO understand your business perfectly well and I am telling you that running yourself into an early grave is exactly what your detractors want you to do. Regardless of the actual reality of the situation. For one, your father is too much of an egomaniac to be happy about this. I'm sure that this scenario wasn't his first choice."

Shane closed his mouth. How on earth was he going to argue with that? Honestly, how the hell had she figured that out? Who was this little blonde hellcat anyway, ordering him around, telling him what to do? _'Shane, that's why you hired her. That steel edge you felt. Trust your instincts, man.'_ "You...you bring up very valid points, Miss...um, can I call you Josephine. Josie?"

"Josie. If you insist," she sniffed. "I'll have the agenda for your meeting ready in a few minutes, Mister McMahon."

"Shane," he replied automatically, picking up the ham and Swiss on rye. Decent rye. Seeded rye. His favorite. His other eyebrow went up as he took a bite. She was already halfway out the door to the ante office.

"Enjoy your lunch, Mister McMahon," Josie said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a difficult six weeks for Josie. She wished she could let her defenses down to be a part of this close-knit group, but she wouldn't. She couldn't afford it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Timeline for this chapter** : From after Judgment Day May 20, 2001

"So what do YOU know about her?"

"Not a goddamned thing."

"Does she ever smile?"

"I think there's something against it in her contract."

"That's a negative," Shane McMahon said to the three very large men sitting at the hotel bar who were collectively called 'the Filthy Animals' within the WCW. No-one had to tell him the center of the discussion. He was well aware of the fear-inspired awe his assistant was wreaking through the ranks of the talent. She had him running herself. It wasn't exactly healthy, but he knew about it. "I wrote the contract. Smiling is just against her religion."

The Filthy Animals were one of the many tag team stables who had stayed with the promotion through the transition. He knew that Vince had his eye on at least two members, Kidman and Rey Mysterio, Jr., for the WWF proper. Shane was doing everything he could to convince them to stay on. Part of that was changing how the company treated the talent on the road, making it easier for people to travel together, creating a better and more expedient expense system, even splurging for custom coaches for the talent to travel between closer cities instead of having to rent SUVs out of pocket to be reimbursed and drive themselves. It was something he'd tried to get Vince to institute before with little success. Now he could do things the way he wanted to. 

Miss Donnelly was instrumental to the plans he was making, as he needed her to help coordinate these things, do the research, help him gather together the information to get to the varied company deaprtment heads who needed to tell him the feasibilty for these things but he'd heard some rumblings. They were rumblings he didn't like and so to see if he could fix said rumblings, he decided that he needed a trip on the latest show stretch from Austin, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona. There were stops in College Station, Laredo and Santa Fe New Mexico. It wasn't the easiest of runs but that's what he needed to see, and he insisted that his personal assistant's presence was required by his side. It was part of her continuing job training and expressly detailed in her contract. Which is what he used to point it out to her when she tried to convince him her time was better spent reorganizing his office and streamlining the piles of contracts on his desk.

 

Shane took up the next bar stool. "Be glad you guys don't have to see her every day," he joked. "Scotch and water," he said to the bartender.

"What is her DAMAGE?" Rey asked. "Her attitude SUCKS!"

"It wouldn't be so bad," Kidman added, "if she would just SMILE once in awhile or sumthin'."

"I'm telling you.that broad is gay," Konnan said.

"Watch it," Shane said sternly. The last thing he needed was a sexual harassment suit. "She's just serious. Too serious."

"Hey boss, drink fast," Konnan said. "Here comes Miss Serious."

 

Josie rolled her eyes at the way all the men at the bar who knew who she was quickly looked down into their drinks. Mister McMahon had insisted she go to this appearance with him. She didn't much like it. She hated hotels. She hated traveling. She wanted to be home. In her bed after tending the flower garden. "Gentlemen," she said, passing them on her way up to her room.

Rey, Billy and Konnan all mumbled. 

"Care to join us for a drink, Miss Donnelly?" Shane asked in a louder and more clear voice. 

Rey, Billy and Konnan all looked at Shane like he had twelve heads.

"No thank you, Mister McMahon," she said. "But, thanks for the offer." She quickly strode away before he ordered her to stay.

 

It had been a difficult six weeks for Josie. Not because of the work itself. The work itself was easy, far beneath her skills but that was what she wanted. She wanted to be on automatic, she didn't want to make more decisions than absolutely necessary, she didn't need to be responsible for anything but the specific set of tasks in front of her. Her ego in her own skill had been professionally devastating once before, she wouldn't allow herself to fall into that trap again. No, the difficulty lay in how close Shane McMahon and the rest of the staff were to the men and women who made up the talent pool of World Championship Wrestling. She wished she could let her defenses down to be a part of that, but she wouldn't. She couldn't afford it. Josie knew that this road trip was being used to try and get her to open up, but it wasn't working. She wouldn't let it. Josie knew well the pain of becoming too familiar with your co-workers and your employers then having it used against you. She sighed as she glanced back at the foursome at the bar.

"It's not THAT bad, sister," she heard a voice say from above her.

"Excuse me, but I am most certainly NOT your sister," she said coolly. She looked up into the eyes of Chris Irvine, the man better known to public at large as known as wrestler Chris Jericho. "Good evening, Mister Irvine," she said as politely as she could manage as she breezed past him. "Mister McMahon is in the bar with the Filthy Animals, if you care to join them." 

Chris stood with his arms crossed as he watched Josie walk into the elevator. He shrugged after her retreating form then walked into the bar. "Shane-O," he said as he planted himself down and ordered his one and only beer of the night, "your secretary is one weird chick." Jericho had been a staple at WCW for years, but the mismanagement and sheer idiocy of the previous team allowed him to jump ship to the WWF. Who fired someone with a broken ankle via FedEx anyway? Jericho hadn't wanted to leave, but Vince dangled a lot of money under his nose and Eric Bischoff hated him. Shane talked his father into giving Jericho back to WCW with the same WWF pay AND Shane was a much better boss than Bischoff could ever dream of being. He'd made the official break Just after Insurrexion, the WWF's UK-only Pay-Per-View event with the excuse of being forced to 'choose' promotions.

"Hey, Chris," Shane said. "Yeah. Don't we all know it?"

"I'm telling ya, she's a---," Konnan said.

"Aw, man, don't start with that shit," Rey whined. "Just because you couldn't pick her up, she's whatever. We're in the twenty-first century, you asshole, knock that shit off."

Shane wasn't much listening; he knew that as a boss he really should nip such talk in the bud quickly but relying on Rey to do it for him because it was more effective coming from the luchador. He was more losing himself deep in thought to figure out how best to solve this clear rift between his personal assistant and the rest of his staff because it was counterproductive to what he needed to get done.

 

Josie felt refreshed after her shower. She took her time drying her hair and brushing it out. Pulling it back in a ponytail, she changed out of her robe into a t-shirt and jeans. By this time, she was counting on most people on the roster and the backstage crew either being in bed themselves for an early rise or being out partying so she could enjoy her dinner in peace. She took her copy of Death On The Nile with her and was quickly seated in the hotel's restaurant once she made her way down to the main lobby. She ordered grilled lemon chicken with vegetables and a salad, along with a glass of white wine. As the waiter left, she sighed gratefully and settled down to lose herself in the humid adventures of Hercule Poirot. She had no idea she was being watched from two different fronts.

 

Half an hour later Shane was still sitting at the bar, nursing his drink. His companions had left to find dinner and he was about to head up to his room when he saw the subject of his mental dilemma walk into the restaurant. He almost called her over, but remembering the earlier rejection, he thought better of it. He settled for studying her from afar instead. Shane had never really taken a good hard look at the young woman who helped him in the office on a daily basis. They moved too fast for all of that.

She was beautiful. She was very, very beautiful. It wasn't the politically correct thing for a boss to notice but he did it anyway. He was surrounded by beautiful women, had been since he was in his teen years and the majority of them were clad in far less on broadcast to millions around the world. Shane noticed that her hair was a unique shade of blonde and he didn't see any evidence of darker roots, so he assumed that it was a natural color. Her hazel eyes, he knew, were flecked with green and gold specks. From this far, he could study her perfect Cupid's bow lips. He also noticed that she wore very little makeup. He couldn't make out blush or eyeshadow, and her lips looked as if there was the barest hint of lipstick. Normally those hazel eyes were hard, almost clinical. 'Android-like' as some others had pointed out when they thought he wasn't listening. 

She looked up when the waiter brought her more wine and Shane felt like his heart stopped.

He had never seen her smile either. Shane took a quick gulp of his drink. Part of him almost wished he'd never done so. It was a fleeting, rare thing and suddenly he felt somewhat stalkerish studying her from across the room when she made it clear she didn't want to socialize. Which was the crux of his problem, really. He turned back to the drink he'd been nursing for the better part of an hour, nodding silently as the only other occupant of the bar who would appreciate the gesture.

 

On the other side of the bar, Chris Irvine was waiting for some friends and also noticed Josie's entrance. He studied her carefully, intrigued. There was a special kind of fire that came from her, a vibrancy that she tried and failed to squash with her prim, proper demeanor. He noted her choice of dinner companion, Dame Agatha Christie. 'I don't think I've read that one in a while,' he mused absently. He made a silent note to pick up a copy at a local bookstore before they made their way to their next city.

She was graceful. Her hands moved with a fluidity that Chris wished he possessed naturally, not from years of hard work. Her blonde hair, pulled up in its usual twist, acted as a mirror; it grabbed whatever light was in the room and reflected it back. It made her look like a halo enveloped her calm, patrician face. The smile that she gave to the waiter just confirmed his observation. She was a lovely, sweet-looking, angelic girl. _'So, why do you hide that?'_ Chris mused some more. _'Why do you only to let that light out in little tiny bits to total strangers?'_

Chris sipped his drink, thinking back on his first meeting with Shane's assistant. She had scared him. And she had enjoyed it...reveled in the power of her being able to make him jump. 'Such a complicated psyche,' Chris mused. 'I'd like to get her to open up. I bet she's interesting'

"Hey, yo, Jericho," he heard from just outside the bar area. Chris smiled as he saw Matt Hardy, also recently 'released' from the WWF. "Ready to roll, man?"

Chris tossed back the rest of his drink, giving the angelic Miss Donnelly a last glance. "Yeah. Thanks for the invite, Matt. Sitting in my room wasn't looking very appealing."

 

Josie was lost in the world of the Nile River, trying to find the small clues left by the killer, trying to figure out the murderer before Poirot. She knew she would fail, but she tried all the same. Wrapped up in her book and her dinner, totally unaware of her silent observers, she was content for the moment.

Content for the moment was the best she could do.

 

The next day was filled with more dashing, more schedule changes and more revamps. By 5 P.M., Shane was already feeling wrung out and he still had to get through the show. His assistant, however, looked like the calm eye of the hurricane raging around her. Even if she looked entirely out of place in her pastel power suit, mint green tonight.

"They teach you that at Harvard?" Shane groused, trying to clean up for the show. "I missed that class at Boston University."

"It's a gift," Josie said primly. "Here, Mister McMahon, let me...you're making a mess of it." She quickly pulled the brush through Shane's unruly locks. "Much better."

"You gonna tuck me in and read me a bedtime story, too?" he teased.

"Only if you're an exceedingly bad boy," Josie whipped back. She nearly slapped her hand over her mouth. 'Where on earth did that come from?!'

Shane cracked a half-smile. It was one of the first times she had shown anything but proper deferential manners around him. "Well well. Miss Donnelly has a sense of humor after all," he replied.

 

For the first time in her life, Josie saw a wrestling show taping from the flip side, from behind the curtain instead of from her living room. Even with her best observational skills working, she couldn't keep track of everything. Nor did her employer ask her to. "Just keep up with me," he had told her. "We've got people who have been doing this for years to keep up with everyone else. You're here to learn what I need done."

She was glad she had listened. Unlike the lag of energy he had exhibited previously, once they hit the backstage area of the arena, Shane was a virtual dynamo. He hurried and rushed like the Energizer Bunny as he checked over each camera spot, each change in a script, listened to advice on how to light a promo. He seemed to have every minor detail tucked away in his head to magically appear on call when needed.

It was only after the early matches that Josie was able to sit down near one of the backstage monitors to watch the wrestlers at work. Her love of wrestling predated her employment and working behind the scenes only made her admiration and joy for the sport grow. She was watching the match between Chris Kaynon and the recently 're-signed' Chris Jericho. Josie had always enjoyed Jericho's antics in and out of the ring and often found she used his catchphrases. Usually in the middle of rush hour traffic. There were a few of the wrestlers she'd followed for many years. He was one of them.

She watched as he executed one of his famed lionsaults, a backflip executed from the middle rope where he landed on his prone opponent in a 'splash'. He was incredibly graceful. She never could figure how he could launch his frame up so high, how a move designed to be so devastating could be so beautiful and elegant. His mane of long, blond hair swept in a long arc, adding to the grandeur of the motion.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" a quiet voice came from behind her.

Josie turned in surprise as she regarded the redhead standing behind her. "Lita. You're Lita."

"Amy, actually. Amy Dumas." She held out her hand. "You must be Josie, Shane's assistant."

"How did you..."

"When all the guys started drooling over a 'hot blonde' and we didn't see any additions to the roster, we thought they must have been talking about you," Amy said. "I figured I'd come say hi, welcome you to the zoo. Shane planning on bringing you along from now on?"

"I hope to God not," Josie muttered. "I mean...I have no idea what Mister McMahon's plans are, Miss Dumas."

Amy blinked. "Please...it's just Amy...or Lita." She smiled. "Don't stand on ceremony on MY account."

"I'm sorry. I don't meant to offend."

Amy smiled at the smaller woman. "Josie, there aren't that many women on the tour," she said. "And there are even less who we don't have to worry about stabbing us in the back to get a better position. I know I'd like to at least be friends with you...even if all the guys think you're a lesbian."

Josie's eyebrow went up. "Well that's slightly inappropriate."

Amy chuckled. "Konnan's just pissed because he asked you out and you said 'no'. Don't worry, he's gotten the lecture about being in the twenty-first century about six times already," she teased. "He's just being a massive dick. Hey, hot stuff, nice match," she said to Jericho, who was just re-entering the backstage area. "Kickin' 'sault."

Chris smiled and kissed Amy on the cheek. "Thanks, babe. It was sloppy as hell but I'll take it for now. I GOTTA get back in the gym and work on the launch. Ah, good evening, Miss Donnelly," he said to the blonde. "Shane let you off the leash for a while?"

"NO. Not that it's any concern of yours, Mister Irvine," Josie said coolly. "But I agree with Miss Dumas. Very good match. Congratulations."

Chris gave both women a smirk. "You know," he drawled, "for some reason praise leaving YOUR lips, Miss Donnelly, just sounds that much sweeter. Ladies." He sauntered off towards this locker room.

Amy smiled. "That's Chris for ya."

"What? Arrogant as the day is long?" Josie muttered.

"Whoa."

"That man makes my teeth itch, he's so cocky," Josie added. It was that he reminded her, in some regards, of someone she'd rather not think about.

"JOSIE! There you are!" Shane's voice echoed through the backstage. "Can you do me a favor and take some notes on the matches for me? Some constructive criticism on the way the program flows and that stuff." He looked at the redhead and gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. "Hiya, Ames. Sorry I haven't had a chance to sit down with you and the Boys since you got here. Josie, pencil Lita and the Hardys in on my schedule tomorrow, could you? We can get lunch. You're great, thanks. PAGE! Need to talk to you, man!" He scampered away, gone as fast as he appeared as he chased down Diamond Dallas Page.

Josie stood dumbfounded. "Is he--ALWAYS like that during these things?" Josie asked Amy.

Amy smirked. "Nope. He's worse."

Josie rolled her eyes. "God help me," she muttered.

 

Josie was sitting in the hotel restaurant again, almost finished with her book when she could feel a presence next to her. She didn't move her head, just moved her eyes upwards.

"Mind if I join you?' he man asked.

"If you wish, Mister McMahon," she said, not wanting to anger her employer.

Shane clicked his teeth together. "Shane. You are allowed to call me Shane, you know." He nodded towards the book she placed on the table. "Good book?"

"Yes. If I hadn't been reading the same page over and over," she admitted. "I'm rather tired."

Shane nodded. "The first few shows are the hardest," he replied. He flagged down a waiter. "A scotch and water, please."

"Some more wine, Miss?" the waiter asked Josie.

"Please," she replied, against her better judgment. After the waiter left, she asked, "The first FEW?"

"Oh...we're going to be on tour for a little bit," Shane said. "I kind of miss it, and you need the exposure."

Josie's heart sank. "Oh."

"I thought you were a wrestling fan?" Shane wasn't trying to pry but he thought the idea of getting into to the inner working of the business would please her.

"I am. I just thought you would be sending me back to Atlanta after this show. There was quite a bit of paperwork that had to be organized for your signature before we left. I had hoped to have everything organized and ready for you on your return." The waiter returned with their drinks. Josie took a sip of the wine. Actually, she'd been counting on it. It was too many people. too much--wishing for things she shouldn't be. Wanting to fall into this familial sort of environment when that was the last thing she needed to do.

"I was," Shane admitted. "That would defeat the purpose of this trip,"

Josie sighed. "Mister McMahon."

"Shane."

"Mister McMahon," Josie repeated, "I know you want to me to have a much more casual working relationship with the other staff and the wrestlers, but it's just not--appropriate. In my opinion" 'Or safe. Or what I deserve' were left unsaid. All she wanted to be was the hired help to quietly and silently do her job without notice.

"Make it appropriate in your opinion," Shane replied. "Because this job is going to be hell until you realize that we all need to be able to trust and depend on each other in this business."

Josie took a gulp of wine. "I'm beginning to reconsider my employment status," she said sourly.

"I'm not." Shane sipped at his scotch. "The moment I saw you, I knew you had what it takes and that you were right for the job. My instincts aren't usually that wrong. Take a gentle reprimand from your boss. Get off your high horse and get to know some of these people. You're going to be with us for a long, long while. The last thing you need is to pick up legit heat from anyone."

"Yes, sir," Josie replied woefully.

"Maybe you should ride in the bus tomorrow," Shane mused. "Amy seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Miss Dumas seems very...friendly," Josie said cautiously.

"Amy. She is. So are Matt and Jeff, the guys she does most of her work with. Well, you already knew that, didn't you?" Shane said. "They'll take good care of you." Shane finished the last of his drink. "I'm gonna call it a night." He stood up and motioned to the waiter, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out a credit card and said, "For my drink...and the young lady's dinner."

"Mister McMahon, please don't!" Josie protested.

"Oops. Too late," Shane said with a boyish grin as the waiter hurried away with the platinum Visa. "You were going to expense it anyway, so what's the big deal? It's your first trip, let a guy do something nice for the lady who cracks his whip."

Josie hated it when she couldn't argue logic. "Thank you, Mister Mc--"

"OK let's get this straightened out. SHANE. That's my name, I prefer you use it. Trust me, you do NOT want to meet 'Mister McMahon' right now." Shane shuddered. "Dad's kind of in a pissy mood these days. Have fun on the bus with the cool kids tomorrow, Josie," he said as he started to wandered after the waiter to sign the bill.

"Do I have to?" Josie muttered.

"I heard that," Shane said. "Answer, YES."

 

Josie shifted her bag on her shoulder.

"Here, let me carry that for you," she heard from above her.

"I'm quite all right, Mister Irvine."

"It's Chris and it's the least I can do to make up for being a cocky bastard." He grinned at her sheepish look of surprise. "Rule 1, nothing stays secret for long on a wrestling show. Rule 2, Amy and I go WAY back."

"Hey, Josie!" the aforementioned Amy said, hair pulled back in a ponytail and looking surprisingly fresh faced. "Shane told me you were riding the bus. Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone!" She took Josie by the hand and practically dragged her up the stairs. "I'm sort of new myself, so I may mix real names and ring names up," Amy admitted.

"It's OK, Miss--Lita. Amy. You don't have--."

"Billy, Rey, this is Josie Donnelly," Amy rambled happily, completely ignoring the protests of the blonde she had by the wrist. "Shane's new assistant, you know her, right?"

"Um, hi?" Josie replied.

"Hi," they both said.

"And you know Chris Kanyon--"

"A pleasure."

"MATT! Where are you?"

"Back here with the PlayStation," a voice called out.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Of course he is. Boys," she muttered as she pulled Josie along. "I'm kind of glad you're coming," the redhead said to Josie. "Sharmell and Stacy both flew back yesterday, me and Kim are the only girls on the tour bus right now. At least if you're here they won't be -- OH MAH GOD YOU GUYS!! THIS MESS!"

Josie smiled cautiously, almost against her will. "It seems rather--hectic"

"Yeah. Especially spending all day, every day with these pigs. Hey baby." Amy leaned over and kissed Matt Hardy on the cheek. "This is Josie Donnelly, Shane's assistant."

"Hey there, Miss Donnelly," Matt replied, his voice drawling with his Carolinian twang. "I'm Matt. Manic Panic boy over there's my brother, Jeff."

"Hi there," Jeff said. "Matt, pay attention! I got you in the Walls, bro!"

"Aw SHIT!" Matt turned his attention back to the video game. "He ALWAYS plays as Jericho."

"And I always WIN too!" Jeff threw his hands up as Matt's video wrestler tapped out. "I am the Champion, my friends!"

Josie had to laugh. Jeff's enthusiasm was infectious, and charming. Dangerous for her, really but maybe if she pretended to like it, Mister McMahon would ship her back to Atlanta that much sooner.

"You know, I should be pissed," Chris said, coming up behind them. "Jeff does better as me on that damned game than I do." He smiled. "Can I get you ladies anything? Water, coffee?"

Amy giggled. "He's only being nice 'cause you're here," she said to Josie. "Otherwise, he'd be ordering me around to get him coffee."

 

Josie had found a seat near Amy s they started to head from Austin towards College Station. She was content in watching what was going on around her. The tour bus was luxurious, and even roomier considering the size of the people riding in it. Jeff, Matt and Chris alternated playing video games or music; Kanyon slept most of the trip and Kidman and Mysterio played cards.

"Where are you from?" Amy asked after finishing up a game of WWF Raw with Jeff and finding her way back to the seat she'd left Josie in.

"Chicago," Josie said, albeit reluctantly. "Southwest side. Very Irish. Very lower middle class. Good people. I moved as soon as I could though. It's too cold in Chicago."

"Yeah, it is cold there. Did you go to school in Atlanta?"

"No, Boston. Smith College, then Harvard. I moved to Atlanta after Business school." Just the barest of information. No-one needed to know that she sent home a solid amount of her paycheck back home to her parents when they refused to move south. She didn't want to let people that far in.

"You're so lucky. Harvard," Amy said dreamily. "I wish I was that smart."

Josie was silent. She shrugged "It's not all it's cracked up to be, trust me." Long nights studying. Longer days fighting for her place. School was a trial at times. She was happier with it behind her.

"Why NOT?" Amy demanded. "You've got a long career ahead of you here. Moving up the ladder doesn't depend on whether or not your looks or your back hold up."

Josie spent more of the rest of the bus ride contemplating that statement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'Oh, for God's sake, Josephine, it's one night.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PPV/Wrestling Timeline for this chapter** : all events happen before King of the Ring June 24, 2001 (WWF-ECW/WCW)

**June 12, 2001**  
**12:37 PM**

 

By the time Josie returned to her desk after her very first tour, she had learned more about business than she had her entire last semester at Harvard or in the seven years she'd been working since. Wrestling was a different language, a different culture, a different world. She had seen men who were violent and vicious to each other in a ten-minute match drink a beer together and joke about the beating they had just handed the other not fifteen minutes later.

She learned that her skirts were highly impractical and had to opt for slacks instead. The long hours meant headaches when her hair was in a twist so she opted for ponytails caught at the base of her neck with a clip. Blouses transformed into stretchy t-shirts and short-sleeved sweater sets instead of silk blouses and jackets. She still wouldn't shake her formality with her employer even with all the time they spent together. But she did become the constant presence at his side he wanted and he was a more than competent teacher. 

Now that they were back in the office, the doors between their suites were usually open with Shane bellowing requests through the open door. It wasn't the complete openness she was sure he wanted but it was a hair more relaxed than it had been. It was about as much as Josie could allow.

 

"Josie," he said to her as she brought in his lunch, "how long have we been together now?"

Josie chuckled at the wording of the question. "Since the middle of April, Mister McMahon."

"And she _STILL_ calls me 'Mister McMahon'," he complained, speaking to some unknown entity that lived in the ceiling.

"Only because I like you," she replied, setting his tray on the desk next to him. This afternoon's offering was chicken salad on toasted wheat and a Greek salad. It was another one of their routines: she insisted he eat, he insisted he wasn't hungry or had no time, she brought the tray and came back an hour later to find nothing but crumbs on the plate.

For the first time after asking that question, he looked a little uncomfortable. "Um. There's this **THING** , I have to go to Thursday night," he said. Honestly, he had no idea why he was even bringing it up this way; the woman managed his schedule, she already knew he had this event to go to. "Like a business executives' gala? And I was wondering...I kind of need...would you go with me?"

"Would that be the Entrepreneurial Business Dinner, Mister McMahon?" Josie asked warily. She had frowned when she saw the event pop-up on her employer's schedule. It was an event she knew, knew a little too well. There would be too many people from her former profession who would know her. 

"Um...yeah. It would look BAD if I went alone. That kind of thing." That wasn't entirely true but it kind of was. Atlanta society was very different than New York or the rest of the Northeast. A date was expected. He also had the ace in the hole that he knew she had worked in Atlanta before she had come to work for him. Maybe she knew enough people to give him a little push in to getting into some good graces.

Josie thought for a moment. She knew exactly who would be there. It would be a terrible idea to go. "Why not ask Lita or one of the other female talent to accompany you?" she asked. "That would be slightly more appropriate than asking your assistant, wouldn't it?"

"Um...most of them have big boyfriends who would kill me if I did?" he said. 

Josie thought it was a lame reason, since it was a work related event but at the same time--it was part of her job description, she knew that much. "I suppose I haven't much of a choice," she said warily. "Since it's work."

"Great!" Shane gave her a smile. "I'll pick you up at seven on--"

"Why don't I just meet you here?" Josie said quickly. It was one thing to agree to go to a business function with her boss, it was entirely different to let him know exactly where she lived.

"Um...if you want. Whatever's easiest for you..." He couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. They were having a moment, he thought. Shame on him for that.

"Well, we don't want this feeling too much like a DATE, Mister McMahon," Josie said primly. "This is a business engagement, after all."

"Of course not," Shane muttered. "Heaven forbid we act like regular folks for one night..."

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing, Miss Donnelly," Shane snapped a little too sharply than he meant to be heard.

Josie gave Shane an odd look, almost chastised. "Well. Seven on Thursday then," she said. "I'll leave the directions on your desk."

"I know how to get to the office," he said and this time he let the bitterness creep through.

It took a lot for her to say the next statement. "I mean, directions. To my house."

Shane looked up.

"Since it means so much to you," Josie replied quietly. It was a battle she knew that she'd have to lose this one time. Maybe she wouldn't have to lose it ever again. "I assume it's formal attire?"

"Ah-yeah...formal," he replied the words almost falling out over each other. "If you don't have anything, I'll lend you my credit card. Or you could expense a dress..."

Josie smiled slightly. "It's been a while," she said, "but I think I can manage. Thank you, Mister McMahon." She left the room, leaving the tray sitting on the desk. 

Shane grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "I'll manage," he muttered. He spent the rest of lunch wondering what 'managing' exactly would entail.

 

At ten after one, his intercom crackled to life. "Mister McMahon...it's Mister Irvine on line three."

Shane picked up the phone. "Chris, what's--"

"What is this invitation thing, Shane-O?" Chris asked with more than a note of irritation in his voice.

Shane sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Chris Irvine hated doing corporate gigs. Everyone in management LOVED Chris Irvine doing corporate gigs because he was good-looking, popular and his eloquence on the mike wasn't just for the camera. He was one of their best 'properties' and as much as Shane knew how the man liked his down time, business was business. "The Atlanta Entrepreneurial Business Dinner. Big wigs in a lot of local companies we need to connect with. Free food. Free booze."

"And why am I going?"

"Because you are one of my high profile employees who actually knows how to talk to people and WCW needs the exposure," Shane explained, needlessly in his opinion. He and Chris had this argument every time Shane decided that Chris Jericho needed to wear 'a monkey suit'.

Chris sighed. "I'm gonna have to wear a tie, aren't I?"

Shane smiled. "Worse. You have to wear a tux."

There was silence on the other line. "Jesus, Shane-O. Do have any idea how hard it is to find a tux for my shoulders on short notice?"

"Hey buddy, you hit pay dirt...this is Atlanta...Georgia State FOOTBALL. Plenty of places in town are used to dressing up big, burly guys."

"I forgot about that. Got any recommendations?"

"Better. Got the tux headed out to your place. Collette in Wardrobe sent over all your measurements to this place she uses. Dolce-Gabanna. Wear something Maroon to go with it."

"After you finish giving me needless fashion advice, I assume you have a date for me in that magic bag of yours Fairy Shanefather?" Chris whined.

"You're a freaking smart-ass...YES, I have a date for you. You're going with Stacy Keibler."

"WHY?"

Shane really wished he'd managed to make today's lunch liquid. "Because I said so."

"Who you going with?"

"Um...nobody special," Shane sputtered.

Chris laughed "You're stammering? That's bull. You're going with that cute secretary of yours, aren'tcha?"

"Chris, she is not my secretary..."

"Riiiiiiiight. So, you going with Miss Donnelly or WHAT?"

"Alright...yeah, I am, but don't tell anybody, OK?" The pinched bridge of his nose was joined by a throbbing behind his eyes. "She'll kill me. I'm gonna have to give her a raise for being forced to be seen with me in public as it is."

"Shane and Josie, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N--"

There were few of his in-ring employees who had as drastic and concise a 'switch' as Chris. It was fairly easy to the tell the moment Chris Irvine went away and Chris Jericho was in full force. "Freakin' shut-up, Jericho, you ass!" Shane was sure he was bright red. "It's a business thing. Strictly business. **TRUST** me on that one."

Chris chuckled. "What time?"

"I'll pick you up at six, and Stacy at six-thirty. Then we can go get the other member of our party."

"THIS should be fun."

"Come on, Chris...free food...free booze..."

"Well, when you put it that way...you STILL owe me, boss. I had a hot date with a notebook and a guitar."

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll make me pay for this in ways I haven't dreamed of yet."

"You're damned right. Later, Shane-O."

"Later, Chris."

 

**Thursday June 14, 2001**  
**7:05 PM**

The dress choice was easy, really. Josie had a reputation for pastels, the dress was a classic. Vintage 1950s with chantilly lace and sequins. Much more modest than other women were going to be wearing she was sure but it suited her style. It was one of the few things passed down from her grandmother, a family heirloom she put to good use on more than one occasion. She didn't have qualms about rewearing a piece. She couldn't afford to. 

She sat on her tiny porch, waiting for the limousine to pull up to the front walk and for her employer to come to escort her to the car. 

"You...wow." Shane was dumbstruck when Josie stood up to meet him. He had thought 'managing' for Josie Donnelly would mean a severe black business suit and heels. He had no idea 'managing' meant miles of pink lace and sequins. Or chic diamond solitaries in her ears or a elegant diamond collar necklace. Her hair was caught up in its usual elegant French Twist, a crystal-encrusted comb holding it in place. "You look--lovely," Shane sighed. It didn't cost him a thing to say it because it was true.

"Thank you, Mister McMahon," she said as he took her hand to escort her down the steps of her small house.

"Um, just for tonight...call me Shane?" he asked. Usually there was a playfulness to the request but there was almost a plea in that question this time.

Josie almost shook her head no. _'Oh, for God's sake, Josephine, it's one night.'_ "Of course. Shane." She smiled as the unfamiliar name slipped from her lips. It wasn't so awful to call him Shane at the moment. Not as frightening or as forced as she thought it might be. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow as he walked her to the limousine.

"Good evening, Miss Donnelly," came the arch voice of Stacy Keibler. SHE was in black, of course, with borderline gaudy makeup and jewelry, will gaudy in Josie's eyes at least.

"Miss Keibler," Josie replied politely. She didn't always get along with Stacy Keibler. Josie found her to be somewhat vapid--then again, she hadnt gotten along with the cheerleaders in high school or cheerleader-types in college, she certainly didn't now.

"Well, well, well. Don't you clean up nicely, Miss Donnelly," said the other occupant of the limo.

"As do you, Mister Irvine," she said evenly. 'Too bad I can't be lying about it,' she mused bitterly. He DID clean up nicely, his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and the formal tuxedo perfectly fitted to his frame. Their unofficial feud had been going on since her first road trip. It showed very few signs of ending soon. But for a compnay appearance, they could have a temporary truce.

"Claws IN, kids," Shane said, entering the limo. "The Omni," he said to the driver.

The Omni Atlanta at the CNN Center was one of the most luxurious hotels in the city and often hosted large events as this one. Shane offered a hand to his 'date' to help her out of the limousine once they had pulled up to the front door. "Been here before?" he whispered, wanting to play Prince Charming to his 'Cinderella'.

"Yes," she said matter of factly without realizing she'd burst her boss' bubble. "This was one of the events I routinely went to when I worked with Jackson-Coe," Josie replied. She took a look at the man holding her arm and noted the deflated look in his eyes. "But the Omni never ceases to take my breath away," she added. It was easy to give that addmission but that was her truth. The Omni was one of the places she loved to see in her adopted home city.

Shane glanced Josie over once more, and tried to ignore the flip-flops his stomach was doing. Like its owner, the dress was properly formal, shimmering pink and mauve in the lights. She looked like a blonde Jackie-O, her regal demeanor and mannerisms a perfect fit in the elegance of the ballroom they were escorted into. 

A booming voice carried over the band that was playing somewhat generic 'cocktail party' music. "Josie? Josephine T. Donnelly, mah gawh, how are you?!" The man heading toward them was tall, tan, with greying temples and laugh-lines around his eyes. He looked to Shane like a younger, slimmer Vince type of a man.

"Phillip!" Josie gave Shane an apologetic look. "I should say hello, Mister--Shane. Phillip and I go back a ways." She parted from Shane so she could greet the man before he ran them down. "Phil, how are you!?" A hug was given on both sides. It was clear to see that the pair were on good terms.

Shane was dumbfounded. He didn't know the man personally, but he knew OF him. Most of Atlanta did. Phillip Mercer owned Peachtree, one of the hottest advertising agencies in the city. Shane had been hoping to land them to do the newest set of WCW promos, but appointments with Phil Mercer were hard to come by. And Shane had an in sitting right in his front office all this time. Really, wasn't this the reason why he wanted his assistant as his 'date'? He didn't miss the references on her resume, after all.

"I always did love that dress. You look wonderful," Mercer said, planting a kiss on Josie's cheek.

"You always were a shameless liar. Is Eloise here?" she asked and Shane assumed she was referring to a wife or a girlfriend.

"She's feeling under the weather tonight, honey, but I'll tell her you inquired after her," Mercer said.

"Would you?" Josie smiled. "How's life After Jackson-Coe?"

"Life is good," Mercer admitted with a wink. There were a few people in Atlanta who understood that feeling. "Do I see you on the arm of Mister Shane "I'm-a-Yankee-Wrasslin' Boy' McMahon?"

"Phil," Josie warned.

"Hell, that's a catch and a half, girl," Mercer said.

"He's my boss," Josie said.

"Wait--you work FOR him?" Phil shook his head. "There ain't no way. You can't be in charge of his marketing division, his marketing division stinks."

Josie sighed, knowing the reaction wasn't going to be good. "I'm his Executive Assistant."

"WHAT!?" Phil snorted. "Give your notice. I'll hire you over at Peachtree at double your old salary at JC AND give you your own division." Mercer shook his head. "Damn your hide and your pride, Josephine. When they kicked you out, you never told a soul. There's a lot of people in this town who would have helped you out. You deserve better than being that boy's secretary. You're too smart for that!"

"Phil--"

The older man shook his head. "And don't think there's anyone who believe any of that scuttlebutt either, darlin'. We all know what--"

Josie laid a hand on Phil's shoulder. "I need to do this, Phil," she said. "I need to rebuild without tatters of JC hanging behind me, and I need to get myself in check." Josie smiled. "Come on, I want you to meet him...maybe you'll see why I stick it out." She walked back over to the trio she'd left briefly, arm resting in her new escort's. "Mister McMahon, this is---"

"Phil Mercer. Shane McMahon," Shane said, holding out a hand. "I'm glad to meet you, sir. I've heard great things about your firm."

"I've heard that Ted Turner done loaded your daddy with a ton of crap," Mercer said, smirking at Shane's wince as they shook hands. "Also heard his boy's got a good head on his shoulders. Has to, if he hired the best research ad manager in Atlanta."

Josie shook her head. "Ignore him. Mister Mercer and I--"

"Josie," Phil interrupted, "I've known you since you were a wee baby admin for D. Louis Jackson, we go back WAY too long for you to be calling me 'Mister Mercer'." He winked at Shane. "This little lady's got the best eye in the ad business and talent to boot."

"Phil, Chris Irvine, Stacy Keibler, some of my co-workers," Josie introduced them, hoping to get him to stop his horrible exaggerations. OK she was good but honestly...

"Well, well, well. Chris Jericho and Miss Hancock," Phil sighed. "I'm a big fan," he explained. "Josie used to be my office wrasslin buddy. We used to dissect ya'lls storylines twice a week over beers."

Shane gave Josie a look. Josie was studying the toes of her pink pumps for a moment with her cheeks matching her dress. "I told you...Phil and I go WAY back. NOW, you know part of why I stay."

"Get me seats to the next pay-per-view, Donny," Mercer chuckled. "Then I'll be impressed."

"Design my ad campaign for the next pay-per-view and you got a deal," Shane said quickly. He could get more out of this chance meeting than any sit down he could have arranged. It wouldn't be the first time Shane did a deal on his feet with a glass of champagne in his hand.

Phil gave Josie a quick look. "One concession." 

"Name it." 

"I get my design partner back," he said, jerking his thumb at Josie. "It'll be like old times, Donny."

"Merc, must you?" Josie sighed, rolling her eyes.

"It'll be ol' Mighty Damn Good together again." Mercer leaned over to whisper, "Gould jumped last week."

"Petra left JC?" Josie was shocked and it showed on her face. "Pet swore she would never leave JC! She was almost to senior partner." Petra Gould was Josie's mentor through her first three years at Jackson-Coe and one of the few people she considered a 'friend'. One of the only people she saw during her exile and fall from grace.

"Guess who's way she got into?" Mercer said, his face impassive and his voice slightly sad. "I know, Pet loved JC and her loved her job but You know what happens when people say 'no' to Steven Cooper."

Josie shuddered. "Please don't remind me," she said quietly.

"It's OK," he replied. "I threw her a line and five of her accounts came with her. She's battered and a little bruised but she's on her feet. SOME people know how to ask for some damned help. If'n it weren't for Pet, not one of us woulda known you didn't up and disappear like a fart in the wind, missy."

Josie at least attempted to look contrite at that. 

"So, whatta say, McMahon?" Phil said to Shane. "I get Josie for the campaign, you get the slickest ads to ever promote a wrestling event by the best team in advertising in this city."

Shane smirked. "She that good?" he asked.

Phil smirked back. "No. She is that DAMNED good. If advertising was wrasslin, we'd have called her 'The Game'."

Josie blushed. "For God's sake, Phillip," she muttered, regarding Chris's smirk and Stacy's look of ire. "Embarrass me a little bit more, why don't you?"

Josie's reaction made the decision foregone in Shane's mind. "Phil Mercer...you got yourself a deal," Shane said, shaking his hand. 

 

Josie introduced Shane, Chris and Stacy to a fair number of high level executives in the room, most who were movers and shakers in several field but mostly on the advertising side. She had either known them personally or had dealings with them from her six years at Jackson-Coe Advertising. By the time dinner rolled around, she had gotten their seating arrangements changed so they would be sitting with Mercer, Kelly Johnson who was the owner of Shrike, another hot new ad firm based in Decatur and Jolene Anderson, a young designer from Athens who was being tapped to resigned the uniforms for the Atlanta Braves.

"I'm impressed," Shane said to Chris as they watched Josie work the room on Mercer's arm. "She's more connected than Sprint."

"I'll say," Chris replied. "She schmoozes better that you do too."

Shane snorted. "She's prettier than I am." He hadn't been able to take his eyes off Josie all evening.

Chris nodded in agreement. "She most certainly is." He hadn't been able to take his eyes off Josie all evening either, much to the chagrin of Stacy. Stacy consoled herself with being the center of attention of several other men in the room, one of which was escorting her to the table.

"Shane, Chris," Stacy said, "this is Steven Cooper, a senior partner at Jackson-Coe."

Chris gave a slight start. He remembered the initial conversation they'd had with Phil Mercer; Steven Cooper wasn't put in the best of lights during it. Shane then Chris shook hands with Cooper. Chris looked over at Shane, who was also giving Cooper a wary eye. 

"A pleasure, gentlemen," Cooper said, a cultured Georgian drawl coloring his voice. "Stacy tells me that you work with a former colleague of mine."

"Yes." Shane said hesitantly.

Stacy gestured to Josie, who was being escorted to the table by Mercer. "Another old friend of yours to see you," she giggled. Chris tried to get Stacy's attention, but saw the malicious smirk on her face. _'That bitch...she's setting her up.'_

Josie came over and then froze. "S-St-Steven," she stammered.

"Josephine. It's been--too long." Steven captured one of her hands and pressed his lips to it.

Josie took deep breaths in and out. She could not lose her composure. She would not lose her composure. Not here. Not in front of Shane and certainly NOT in front of Irvine. "Yes," she said evenly. "Not long enough, actually."

"Steven, we were talking," Phillip said, normally jovial mouth pulled down into a frown. "Maybe you should head over to your table.."

"Oh. But Stacy has invited me to sit at THIS table, Steven said smoothly. "If that's all right with you of course, Josephine?"

Josie fought reacting in anyway. "Of course," she lied. 

"Josie," Phil said close to her ear.

"It's OK, Phillip," Josie said. "It IS," she assured him. "If things get too out of hand, I've got two VERY large and physically able gentlemen and and equally capable lady who can take care of it."

 

Shane looked at Chris, who shrugged. Chris, in his own mind, decided he was going to keep an eye on this Cooper character, who at the moment was saying something in Stacy's ear that made the blonde girl giggle.

 

A waiter came by the table. "If you'd all be seated," he said quietly. They nodded. Shane grabbed the seat next to Josie. Chris grabbed the other, leaving Phillip Mercer sitting next to Shane.

"Well, Josephine, you seem to be the center of attention tonight," Cooper said as he took a seat directly across the table from her. "Without surprise. You look stunning, as always."

"Thank you, Mister Cooper," Josie said, her voice at its most formal, clipped and precise. All the pain this man had caused her--all the pain she set herself up for taking things too far with this man--having to face him and not able to say a word about it was not putting her in a good mood.

Chris shot Shane a look. That was definitely a 'Miss Donnelly' tone of voice, filled with a backhanded venom usually reserved for him. "So, Mister Mercer..."

"It's Phil, Mister Jericho."

"Then I'm Chris, and I'd love to hear how you and Miss Donnelly met," he said. He was surprised to see Josie give him a look of gratitude underneath the ire.

Throughout dinner, Mercer regaled them with tales of his and Josie's early working days at Jackson-Coe, with Josie piping in with the truth to Phil's tall tales. After dessert the band began to play in the background. Throughout the entire meal, Stacey hung off Cooper's every word, Cooper bored a hole through Josie and Chris and Shane alternated boring holes through Cooper.

"Josie, care to dance?" Shane asked.

"I'd love to," she replied quickly in relief, shooting Cooper a hate-filled glare.

"What is that guy's problem?" he whispered in her ear as they made their way to the dance floor.

Her sunny demeanor faltered. She couldn't very well blame Steven for all of it, now could she? "It's a long story, Mister McMahon," she whispered back.

"You're supposed to be calling me 'Shane' tonight," he reminded her as they danced.

"You're right. I'm sorry," she said.

"You're a great dancer," he said, changing the subject.

"You're a great leader," she replied back.

"Aw sh---here comes Mister Snotty Personality," Shane muttered as the subject of the previous part of their conversation came sauntering over.

"Mister McMahon...might I cut in?" Cooper asked, though his gaze was firmly set on Josie. "It's been so long since I've had a chance to take Josephine out for a--"

"Actually," a new voice said, "I believe Miss Donnelly promised ME the next dance." Chris smiled as he took Josie's hand out of Shane's and swept her up in his arms. "If you don't mind, boss?" he asked from over her shoulder.

Shane held up his hands. "No skin off my nose," he said, trying to not grin at Cooper's scowl.

"Better luck next time, ass clown," Chris muttered at the swiftly fading sight of Cooper after pulling her into an elegant swing back onto the dancefloor.

"I'd treasure this if I were you," Josie said to Chris as he flamboyantly waltzed her around. "I owe you about ten. Thanks."

"My pleasure, Miss Donnelly," Chris said graciously. "That guy gets on my nerves."

"Miss Keibler seems to like him well enough," Josie said bitterly.

"She's an airhead," Chris said fiercely. "She gives the rest of us blondes a bad name. Present company included."

"Thanks. You and Shane plan on keeping him away all night?"

"With Phil and Stacy's help," Chris replied. He nodded over towards Cooper, who was being entertained by the previously mentioned Stacy. "She doesn't even realize she's helping, of course."

Josie smiled. "That makes me feel better in a perverse sort of way."

"You're one of us, Miss D, and we don't let people mess with our own." He grinned. "That's reserved for in-house talent."

"Where on earth did you learn how to actually _dance_?" she asked as the music moved from a quasi-waltz to a foxtrot that he moved into with little to no heistation.

"Easiest A I ever got in college," he said with a smirk. "You?"

"Same thing," she said. "Though ballroom dancing at an all girls' college is an artform. I always forget I can't always lead."

Chris smiled. "Come on then, Fred," he quipped. "Teach me how to do this backwards in Italian loafers."

"Why, Chris Irvine. I do believe you're being nice to me."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Josephine Donnelly. The coach turns to a pumpkin promptly at midnight."

 

 

**June 15, 2001**  
**Monday, 10 AM**

 

"Why didn't you tell me you were that connected?" Shane asked Josie. after they'd settled in for a long day of meetings, contract and paperwork. Fridays they both were in the office were filled with all three and as much as he wanted to sometimes stay in Atlanata, his presence was required on the road right now.

Josie shrugged. "It didn't matter," she said. She'd already rescheduled a finance meeting to later in the afternoon and moved up one with medical. Shane wanted a better program in place to deal with smaller injuries before they turned into huge ones, costing talent time and both talent and company money with rehab and lower salary.

Shane looked at her. "Of course it mattered!" he shouted. "You think you'd still be only my assistant if I knew who you knew?"

Josie bowed her head. "I do not want you to promote me based on who I used to know or what I used to do," she said. "I want it to be on the merit of my work."

Shane gave her a look. "Believe me, it will." He picked up his phone. "Starting with Marketing. Hello, Neil? Shane, how are ya? Good, good. Look, I'm sending you a new person. I want you to give her the storyboards for the new ads, let her give them a once over. No, not some rookie, she used to work for Jackson-Coe. Yeah THAT Jackson-Coe. She'll be there in ten minutes. Later." Shane hung up the phone. "That ad campaign."

"For the revamped Saturday night broadcast..."

"Has been in limbo because it sucks. It look too much like what Vince is doing. I want you to fix it."

Josie gave Shane a cold look. "That isn't my job," she said.

"It is now. You've got marketing experience AND you know the product. Go to it. I have complete faith in your ability."

 

**11:30 AM**

Neil Jackson was the new head of WCW Marketing, one of the people that had been brought down from Stamford. He’d been under the McMahon employ for almost a decade. He came storming into Shane's office. "Shane, I know you know your stuff but your SECRETARY just told us to change the entire campaign around."

"She's not my secretary." Shane didn't even look up from the contract that had been sent over that morning from Peachtree Consulting. "She told you to do something? Do it."

"We've been working with those mock-ups and artwork for months! She took one look at it, tossed the boards over her shoulder and said, 'Now write a campaign I would want to watch'. She's a bitch!"

"On wheels, Neil." Shane finally looked up. He was one of the people not initially happy with his choice of Josie as his assistant and now it looked like the man was doubly displeased. "You KNOW she comes with great credentials in marketing. If she says re-write the ads, then re-write them."

Josie came striding in. "Oh good, Neil, you're here already," she said, waving the promo sheets in Shane's face. "Mister McMahon, have you READ these things? They're comical!"

"We've modified them from WWF scripts." Neil’s arms crossed and his face pinched.

"I'll have you know that me and Phil Mercer would sit around every Monday and Thursday night heckling these things," Josie said. "You DO know who Phil Mercer is, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know who Phil Mercer is but he's not in wrestling," Neil said sourly. He turned back to Shane. "Shane, this took us months up in Stamford to get to this point, we're supposed to be finalizing them not completely reworking them."

Josie snorted. "If you dickwads in Stamford would take your thumbs out of your asses for six seconds--"

"OK, OK you two. Enough." Shane had never heard Josie even say 'damn', so 'dickwad' was pretty telling to the state of her temper. "Neil, I think you'd better go upstairs and get the entire team together and rework this." Shane gave Neil a look that brooked no arguments. "I want you to get upstairs, POLITELY explain to the marketing team Josie's long-standing experience and get this ad campaign back on track. Josie, a word?"

Neil glared at Josie, then stormed off.

"Dickwads?" Shane asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry, Mister McMahon," Josie said contritely, slowing her breathing. It was definitely her 'Damn Donnelly' at work. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. I simply can't abide shoddy work, especially shoddy work coming to us from the outside."

"Are you kidding? That's exactly what they needed. If I wanted 'yes men', I would have hired all of the dickwads in Stamford." Shane pulled Outlook up on his computer screen and typed himself some notes. "From now on, YOU'RE handling the final approval for all print ads and TV spots."

"You're kidding?"

"Phil Mercer's right, Jo. You're too smart to be managing my schedule and setting up my meeting agendas," Shane said. "You have a wealth of experience I need to ultilize better and you said it yourself. I need to delegate more. I want to hand this off to you. I want you to take it, I want you to make it yours. And I want it to kick ass. You think you can do that?"

"Jo?"

Shane shrugged. "I like it. Shoot me."

"You are not calling me anything that makes me sound like a character in 'Little Women," Josie said primly.

"Get used to it," Shane said. "Now, hop to it, Jo," he said. "You've got an ad campaign to save."

Josie so did not want to giggle. She couldn't. It was-- She couldn't help herself. It was so horrible. She giggled. Then Shane chuckled. Which made Josie giggle some more. Soon, they were both laughing.

Shane had a brief flashback to the first time he had seen her smile, on the road trip nearly a month before. Laughing made her look a thousand times more beautiful. Her eyes sparkled pure gold and her entire being glowed. He was enraptured with watching her shoulders shake with mirth and the sound of laughter bubbling from her lips. _'Shane-O, I think Jericho might be right. You might have a little bit of a crush on your assistant.'_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Legit' was a dangerous term in their business. 'Legit' meant that the animosity between wrestlers wasn't kayfabe. There were no drinks at the hotel bar or in their rooms after they got back from the arena. There was no backstage ribbing or congratulations. The 'heat', the hatred, the dislike, the desire to hurt--it was all for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: We are now firmly in the AU territory of this story. In reality, the Summerslam Pay Per View never featured another Vince vs Shane Streetfight and Chris Jericho, the Hardy Boys and Lita were all firmly in the WWF camp, not part of WCW. Also the Extreme Championship Wrestling 'sale' had occurred, putting Shane's sister Stephanie as owner of ECW. Instead of them joining forces in this story with Shane and the WCW, ECW aligns with the WWF, leaving Shane and WCW on their own.
> 
>  
> 
>  **PPV/Wrestling Timeline for this chapter** : SummerSlam - August 19, 2001 San Jose CA

Josie was watching the match from the control truck. The street fight was going well. Or as well as an orchestrated brawl with trash cans, steel chairs and bamboo kendo sticks could go.

She'd seen Shane training for this fight, but he looked remarkable. Even better that the first time he had taken Vince on, way back in April. The crowd was going insane, screaming for Shane. If Vince lost this fight, then he would leave WCW alone and stop his goon squads from invading the WCW broadcasts. If Shane lost, then the rubber match would take place during Unforgiven, the next Pay per view in at the end of September.

However, she didn't like seeing her friend in this situation. It was nice to have a friend...even if he was her boss.

Since putting Josie in charge of the ad campaigns for the initial InVasion Pay-Per-View event, WCW name recognition had skyrocketed. Her first coup de etat was to incorporate one of Rick Flair's catch-phrases from the previous incarnation of WCW 'this is MY WCW' and turned it into THE ad of the summer, leading into the revamped broadcasts of Saturday Night Nitro. It was something timeless, she explained and could always be used to introduce new characters and talent to the public without eating up precious airtime or doing an entirely new campaign. 

The print ad, which simply listed the wrestler's ring persona, height, weight, finishing moves, job experience and a catchy quote along with a flashy art-type photo and the 'This is MY WCW' phrase in white on the bottom was a huge hit. The TV ads were just as simple; the person did a voice over to various clips and stating his or her name then the phrase, were equally popular. Within the company, being included in the ad campaign was a sure sign that you were 'established' and a poster of the biggest talents' 'My WCW' ads hung in the main lobby of headquarters.

True to his word Shane had split Josie's day, allowing her to spend the afternoons at Peachtree with Phil Mercer and Petra Gould. Being back with old friends and mentors put a spring in Josie step that hadn't been there in months. It was the first that Stamford had placed entirely in the WCW corporate hands and everyone involved knew it would be the make-or-break point of how much autonomy Vince McMahon would ultimately allow the promotion to have--if it could prove itself. The resulting campaign for WCW's InVasion was stellar. She, Phil and Petra designed it to draw on imagery from World Wars I and II along with Soviet Era propaganda posters. "Whose side are you on?" became the catch phrase of the summer.

Her marketing skills proven, Shane had added a level of interaction of the writing staff to her plate. She wasn't in charge of churning out the scripts, but as a fan of wrestling she was allowed to sit in on the storyline brainstorming sessions. She rarely made any real suggestions, but an upturned nose was enough to kill an idea and full-fledged snorting sent the team into flurries of rewrites. The ratings reflected the commitment to at least attempting to make the storylines more plausible and palatable to the more savvy wrestling fanatic, while still appealing to the younger fans. Her favorite admonition to the team was 'kids are not as dumb as you want them to be'.

Many of the rewrites had to do with the WWF stars pulled back over to WCW and those seeming to float between them. There was also the addition of the Extreme Championship Wrestling promotion. Vince had finalized the deal not long before InVasion and now they had three rosters of stars to integrate into the script. The one Josie had thrown the biggest fit over was the angle to turn Chris Jericho into a full heel, one of the bad guys.

"Not a chance in HELL," she had said. "Jericho is NOT heel material, not right now. No way, no how. Chris is our Rock--" as in The Rock, the WWF's top babyface character. "At worst, he can be a tweener," or a wrestler who flipped between both good and bad roles, "but full heel? No. Not yet."

"It worked before," one of the old WCW writers whined.

"That's because Irvine's a hell of an actor," Josie pointed out. "Jericho is a perpetual face. He gets babyface pops, he'll always get babyface pops because Jericho is a punk and a smart aleck and people love to love him even when they hate him. Even when he WAS a heel, you had to love the guy. He stays face for the foreseeable future. Discussion over. Granted I'm not part of Creative and you certainly don't have to listen to me..." The inherent statement purposely left out, of course, was that Shane McMahon DID listen to her and if it got to him that she hated the idea he'd fight it.

She also prodded the writers into giving the girls more to do instead of look pretty and have catfights in their underwear. They had used Lita and the Hardys in a spies angle in the WWF, culminating in their crossover to WCW. Stacy Keibler was now going by her real name and showed she was more than short skirts and dancing as she struck a deal with Vince McMahon to sabotage WCW from the inside. There was something similar going on with Lance Storm, being pulled towards old friends in the other two organizations. There were more WCW women in actual matches with consequences.

The goal was supposed to be the appearance of feuding rival wrestling promotions all jockeying for supremacy. The internet, of course, routinely destroyed that. The financials were public and searchable after all and everyone knew that all three companies involved were owned by a single parent corporation. But with the commitment of the marketing ads and the scripts on their end, it was difficult not to get drawn into the struggle of the long-suffering son trying to make a name for himself with his ragtag band of wrestlers, the Daddy's Girl trying to finally get ahead of Big Brother and a ruthless father out to prove that he still was at the top of his game. It was too much to resist. It was a promotional goldmine. Wresting would stagnate without at least the appearance of competition.

 

Which brought them to tonight.

 

If there was one thing Shane was good at fighting for it was his pride and this return street match was exactly that. Shane was putting WCW 'on the line', fighting for the right of the federation to even exist. The crossovers had been well planned. But only very few within the hierocracy of any of the groups knew how serious some the fighting had become, that what was supposed to be a highly choreographed conflict had 'real heat' behind it. Josie knew. She had picked Shane up after several sneak attacks. Chris Jericho knew as well, as did the Hardys and Lita. The angle was slowly becoming real life and it disturbed Josie greatly. She had pleaded with Shane not to go through with this challenge to his father. He ignored her. "Dad won't let it go too far," he said as he warmed up for his match. "It's still only a storyline, he's not really going to --OK yeah he's gonna beat the shit out of me but we know what we're doing, it's not legit."

"I'm sure that's what Bret Hart said in Montreal," Josie griped, which earned her a glare. NOBODY had the guts to talk about the Montreal Screw-Job in hearing range of a McMahon. "I have a bad feeling about this Mister McMahon."

"Oh back to the 'Mister McMahon' bullshit again, Jo?"

She rested one hand on his shoulder. "Shane. You know it's gotten ugly a few times." The touch and the name were breaks in her normal attitude and he took that seriously. "Just...be careful."

He smiled and patted his worried assistant on the cheek. "I'll be fine," he reassured her. "Don't worry so much."

 

Josie took Shane's place in the backstage area once it got closer to his match. She'd been backstage for most of the PPV but she'd had to move to the control truck for her own sanity right when he took the gorilla position to make his entrance into the arena. Too many hits during too many of the matches were too stiff, too real. There were way too many receipts being racked up and this street match was fraying her nerves. 

There was a movement in the crowd near Shane's corner. "Zoom in over there, Nick," she ordered the camera tech she was standing next to in the control room truck. Nick, who normally worked on WWF shows, nodded and moved to comply. 

 

Triple H burst from the crowd. He grabbed Shane by the ankle and dragged him from the ring. Like many people, they knew that Hunter Hearst Helmsley was a ring name for the man born Paul Levesque. Like many wrestlers, more people called him Hunter than Paul. Most people didn't know that the story line 'angle' of Stephanie being married to Triple H--wasn't all that much of an angle anymore.

 

"Hunter, what the hell!" Shane said. This wasn't what was supposed to happen.

"Hi 'little brother'," the taller, larger man growled. Then he punched Shane in the face.

 

Josie watched the scene from the control truck in abject horror. "Holy mother of..." She took off running. _'I should have stayed backstage, I should have stayed backstage...'_

"Miss Donnelly, where are you--"

"Call security, you idiot!" she screamed.

"But, the script's great!"

 

Josie skidded to a stop. "I saw the finalized the script, Nick. Triple H wasn't anywhere in it. That's for real. That's legit."

'Legit' was a dangerous term in their business. 'Legit' meant that the animosity between wrestlers wasn't kayfabe. There were no drinks at the hotel bar or in their rooms after they go tback from the arena. There was no backstage ribbing or congratulations. The 'heat', the hatred, the dislike, the desire to hurt--it was all for real. She recognized the look on Paul Levesque's face---and that was 'legit'. She ignored all kinds of people calling after her as she struggled to get to the ring because she would be damned if she watched her boss--her friend---get beaten to death in front of her.

 

Shane couldn't yell anymore. It hurt too much, and he couldn't breathe anymore. Hunter was beating the living shit out of him and no-one could pull him off.

"Helmsley, get off my son! That's my job!" Vince screamed. The last bit was added because cameras were rolling and Vince was a professional but there was a level of panic in his voice that was very genuine. "Paul--" he said in a much lower voice. "Paul, stop. STOP, you're killing him!"

"Not today, boss," Hunter said as he threw Shane back into the turnbuckle. "This little bitch thinks he's going to actually make a go of this? Fuck that."

Shane winced. _'Fuck that hurt.'_ Where were the refs? Where were the goddamned security guards? Who the hell let this monster in? Shane felt the steel chair hit the canvas. Then he felt something else. 'Oh, no.' He could see the handle of the sledgehammer. _'Hunter's not playing when he uses --'_

Shane screamed as Hunter landed the steel chair in his midsection over and over again. Fire and sparks went off behind his eyes.

 

Josie heard the scream even over the crowd. The tableau that met her eyes brought Josie to a skidding stop at the top of the runway. There were a fair number of people behind her but really, her attention was fully trained on the tableau in front of her. Triple H with the sledgehammer. Shane writhing in pain on the canvas. Vince McMahon screaming at Triple H--in anger or encouragement, she couldn't tell. All she knew was she had to get to Shane and she had to do it now. "Distraction--" she keyed on the walkie-talkie had had. "Carl! Carl, play Shane's theme mus---don't argue with me, do it NOW! Get the medics! And security! NOW, Carl!" Josie took off running as she dropped the device, not registering the gasps of surprise from the crowd around the ring, not seeing the shock on Vince's face. All she could see was Shane, at the mercy of that monster and grabbed the first thing she could manage to pick up in her hand.

 

"Game over, little....what the hell is this?" Hunter grinned and chuckled as he saw some slip of a girl come into the ring, swinging a kendo stick. "What are you gonna do, little girl?" he said, raising the sledgehammer over his head.

 

Shane tried to open his eyes. He was dead. But it hurt too damned bad, so maybe he wasn't dead yet. He was close though cause breathing was getting harder and harder to do. There was an angel. 'Wait a minute....angels are white, not pink.'

 

Josie didn't have time for posturing. She leveled a straight leg kick at Helmsley. With the height difference, Helmsley doubled over in pain with her foot landing right in his crotch and he should be grateful she stopped wearing heels four months ago. She didn't give time to recover as she cracked the kendo stick over his head. She grabbed the sledgehammer away and flung it across the ring. "Wanna play?" she growled and kicked Triple H in the face. "Play with me."

"You're--kidding?" Triple H huffed as he managed to get to his knees.

"You wish." Josie had learned tae kwan do to protect herself, only as self defense. She had never used it offensively. If she didn't know her sensei as well as she did, she would have thought he'd been proud of her work.

 

Paul Heyman was in shock. "Oh my god, who is that?" Paul Heyman HAD been the legitimate owner of ECW. After he sold to Vince he became a in-ring and announcing personality. But he was just as confused with this turn of events as anyone else. He could only follow the lead with his co-announcer, the legendary Jim Ross, and hope he knew how to get this match called and turned around.

Jim Ross shot back, "I--to be honest with you Heyman, I don't rightly KNOW."

"Well, whoever she is, she's more like personal bodyguard at this point," Heyman replied. "She's dismantling the Game, piece by piece."

 

Helmsley staggered to his feet after a particularly vicious set of moves. "I'm gonna Pedigree your little ass," he growled at her.

Josie set herself in ready position. When Triple H came for her, she unleashed on him. Every part of her became a deadly accurate weapon and when she was done, Hunter Hearst Helmsley was lying outside the ring, his face a bloody mess. Thankfully, it seemed that a fair number of people had actually managed to get down there as well.

 

She made her way to Shane's side. His face was already turning black and blue. "Shane! Shane, talk to me." She could faintly hear people outside the ring, trying to hold on to Helmsley, Vince included but her focus was on her prone employer.

"Jo?" His voice was a wheeze. "Jo, I can't-I can't-breathe so good."

"Shhh, I'm right here," she whispered. "I would like a medic PLEASE?!" she ordered.

 

"J.R., Shane McMahon looks like he's in bad shape."

"You're right Paul. Whoever this mystery woman is, she may have just saved Shane McMahon's--oh no. It's the Game. He's up and heading towards the ring."

 

Josie saw the stretchers and security men and wrestlers coming down the runway and circling the ring. "It's OK, Shane, we'll get you out of--OW!" She was pulled up to her feet by the hair and then those feet went wavering in the air as she was pulled higher than her height. She felt the slap across the face and she winced as she felt the skin split open. 

"You're gonna pay for getting in my way, bitch," Triple H growled, taking his free hand and grabbing her by the neck to lifting her feet off the ground.

She didn't try to get away. There was no feasible way for her break the grip on her neck. She was running out of air too fast and didn't have enough time. So she went for Option number two:

 

She kicked him in the head. The third time got her loose and she landed on the canvas hard. "You ARE as stupid as you look," she said as she managed to straddle Triple H and punched him in the solar plexus. Then she punched him in the jaw, driving all one hundred and thirty-five pounds she had of herself behind it. He lay mercifully still.

 

Her occupying Helmsley gave the medics the chance to get into the ring to stabilize Shane and get him on a backboard. The medics were slowly taking Shane out as several people helped to restrain the man who had attacked him. "Jo," he was whispering. "Jo, don't leave me, I don't wanna die..."

Josie rolled out of the ring and made her way to Shane's side. "I'm here, Shane...it's OK. I'm right here." She saw his hand moving, searching, at his side. She grabbed it and placed on his heart. "I'm not going to leave you, Shane," she said. "I won't leave."

 

**El Camino Hospital**

Linda McMahon strode into the Emergency Room of the El Camino Hospital with purpose. The doors outside were littered with wrestlers in varied states of dress from all three companies; so was the waiting room. Some were in street clothes, some still in wrestling gear; all had come straight from the arena. Most were grim faced. Some she didn't recognize right away, but she made a beeline for those she did. "Chris. Matt. Where's my son?"

Chris turned at the serious voice. "Linda!" He swept her in a great bear hug. "Oh, Linda, we're sorry. We thought it was all part of the plan. You know how the boss hates it when we try to save his butt."

"This isn't your fault, Chris," Linda said as he released her. "Right now, I'm sure we're all worried about Shane. Where is he?"

"Still in surgery, Mrs. M," Matt Hardy said. "Miss D came down earlier to give us some news."

Linda shuddered. "Surgery? But...it wasn't that..." Linda tried to fight the panic.

"Hunter busted a few of Shane's ribs, Linda," Chris said gently to his boss' mother and the ultimate employer of everyone in the room. "One of them is pressing on his left lung."

Linda sank down in the nearest chair.

"No, no, it's OK, Mrs. M," Matt said. "They rushed him straight here after Miss D got him out of the ring. It's to re-inflate his lung. It's not as bad as it sounds." 

Chris made a motion to Amy, who was talking quietly with Jeff and some of the other wrestlers. "Amy," he said when she reached his side. "Why don't you take Mrs. M and grab some coffee?" he asked his friend.

"Sure Chris. Hi, Ms. McMahon," the younger woman replied. "It's hospital coffee and pretty lousy but it's on me, OK?"

"Thank you, Amy...some coffee would be nice..."

 

'This is too long,' Josie thought as she leaned against the wall. She had refused to get medical attention for herself until she knew that Shane was going to make it out of the woods. Her face hurt and she had gone through several gauze pads to stop the bleeding from the gash on her cheek. 'What the hell is taking so--'

"Miss Donnelly." A doctor dressed in scrubs approached her. "I'm Dr. Kelly.'

Josie gave him a suspicious look. "How did you know who I am?" she asked.

"Because Mister McMahon described you to the letter before we put him under...right down to the gash on your cheek. He said we were to tell you everything going on. His verbal consent is enough for that." Kelly smiled. "I figured you want the good news first."

"There's good news?"

"Mister McMahon is relatively fine. The lung is doing well, and we were able to fix some of the more significant damage to the rib that collasped it. He's in recovery now, but we're going to move him to ICU for the overnight period as soon as he's more cogniscent for observation."

Josie swallowed once. "He's--OK?"

Dr. Kelly smiled. For the time being, yes," Dr. Kelley agreed. "And after you tell the bunch that's invaded the ER, you should get that cut looked at and maybe a once over yourself," he added critically. "You look horrible."

Josie smiled, despite the aches. "Yeah well...that's what happens when you fight the boss's battles for him. Thank you, Dr. Kelly."

 

Amy sat with Linda, talking with her and some of the other female wrestlers quietly. Chris, the Hardys and Hugh Morrus were strategizing:

 

"We need a plan," Chris was saying.

"I say," Morrus replied, "we march our way into Raw, get Triple H and kick his fucking ass!"

"No way, Hugh," Chris said. "Triple H would be waiting for that. We gotta be sneakier than ol' Big Beak."

"Aren't we gonna get in trouble for making trouble?" Matt asked.

"Not if the boss don't find out, stupid!" Jeff answered smacking Matt in the back of his head.

"We need a plan, " Chris reiterated. "This is WAR, gentleman, and the price of victory is nothing less than Triple H's carcass in the middle of one of OUR rings."

"Yeah!"  
"You got it, Chris!"  
"Count me...oh man. It's Miss D."

 

Josie walked into the ER waiting room slowly. Hugh, Konnan, the Hardys and Lita, Chris, Chavo, Sean and Stacy...practically the entire WCW roster and a fair amount from the other two organizations were in the emergency room looking expectant. "Why the hell aren't you all at work?" she asked in surprise.

Most of the wrestlers looked down at their feet. EVERYBODY looked over at Chris, making him the unofficial official spokesman.

"Gee, thanks guys," he muttered. "We wanted to make sure you and the boss man were A-OK," he said lightly. "I mean, the boss dies, we're all in it deep," he tried to joke. "Um...that didn't come out right," he added, looking over at the the man's mother, who was just as worried as the rest of them.

Josie smiled. She couldn't help it. Chris was a smug bastard, but his heart was in the right place. "Mister Mc--SHANE. Shane is going to be just fine." She knew almost everyone else in this room was on a first name basis with him.these were his friends. They deserved to hear the news as friends, not employees. "He's in recovery now. They have to move him to ICU for the night, but he's going to be fine."

Immediately, Josie was rushed with questions, most of them in the vein of 'when can we see him?' One face stood out. "Mrs. McMahon, I thought you would be here." Josie reached out and grabbed her hand. "Dr. Kelly told me that Shane was asking for you before the surgery," she lied. "I think it would be nice if yours was the first face he saw when he woke up, don't you?"

Linda smiled, then looked at Josie critically. "Josephine, what happened to you?" she exclaimed.

Many of the wrestlers hooted and hollered. "Battle scars!" Jeff Hardy crowed. "Miss D went in and whooped her some ass!"

"Jeffrey!" Amy hissed. "Watch your mouth!"

Linda looked at Josie quizzically.

Josie shrugged. "SOMEBODY had to pull him out of there," she said.

"YOU--were the the who confronted Hunter?" Linda asked.

"Nobody else realized it wasn't part of the scripts until it was too late," Chris replied. "By the time I got out of the shower, Miss D had already pretty much dismantled Triple H and helped to get Shane out of the ring."

Matt hardy looked at Linda. "How bad is Hunter?"

Linda shook her head. "Not as bad as he should be in my book. Two bruised ribs and about sixteen stitches. Ten over his eyebrow, six on his jaw."

"Good," Josie said fiercely.

Linda pulled the gauze away from Josie's cheek. "Let's get YOU to the doctor, young lady," Linda said. "I think you're going to need considerably more than sixteen to stitch up that cut." She turned to the man that everyone seemed to took to as leader in this rather surreal situation. "Chris, will you see that Miss Donnelly gets checked out by the doctor?"

"It would be my supreme pleasure, Mrs. McMahon," Chris said. "C'mon, giant killer. Let's get you patched up before the boss wakes up."

"You will pay for that, Mister Jericho."

"Promises, promises, sweetheart."

 

The room was dark and quiet. Shane blinked once or twice, trying to focus his eyes. He was groggy. _'Where the--oh yeah. Helmsley. Jo.'_ "Jo..." he siad weakly.

"It's alright, Shane," a soothing voice said. "Chris has her down in the ER."

"Mom? Mom, is that you?"

Linda tried not to cry as she looked down at her only son. One whole side of his face was black and blue, his lip was split and his jaw looked swollen. His hand was laid protectively on his stomach, almost cradling his left side. "Does it hurt, honey?" she asked.

Shane almost lied but he stopped himself. "Yeah, Mom," he whispered, licking his dry lips. "It hurts like hell."

Linda bowed her head.

"But, I'm OK...please don't cry." Shane reached out and took her hand. "I'm OK...It's not that bad."

"I know, son, I know." Linda sighed. "I'm just very worried. I don't know what possessed your father to let Hunter..."

"I don't think Vince had anything to do with it, Mom," Shane said. "He kept telling Hunter to get off of me. Hell...he even called him 'Paul'. Nothin'."

Linda snorted. "Not that he helped any."

"Mom, would any SANE person willingly jump Triple H?" Shane thought a moment. "You don't necessarily have to tell Jo I said that, y'know."

Linda chuckled. "No, I won't...but it's not her sanity I'm questioning at the moment," she mused.

"Huh?"

"Never mind, honey. You get some rest." She leaned down and kissed Shane's forehead. "I'll be here in the morning." She turned to go.

"Mom?"

Linda turned back. "Yes, Shane."

"I love you. I don't say enough...and I was thinking about that while Hunter was beating me up. That I didn't say that the last time I saw you, and it wasn't fair that I was gonna die and not get to tell you one more time."

Linda smiled at Shane. "That's just one of the reasons I love you so much, Shane," she said. He could be as old as he was and he was always going to be the little boy whose forehead she kissed when he was sick, just like she did at the moment. "Feel better, honey. I'll see you tomorrow."

 

"Mister Irvine, I'm fine, leave me alone," Josie snarled. She was sitting on an exam table in one of the bays of the ER. She ached. She was torn between wanting to go back to the hotel and curl up in bed and going upstairs to keep vigil over Shane. _'Mister McMahon. He's your boss, you can't have feelings like 'worry' for him.'_

"Look, sweetheart, Mrs. McMahon gave me explicit instructions that you're supposed get the once over by the doc, and that's what I'm gonna make sure happens." Chris leaned against the table. "Is it so awful, to be stuck in a room with the Ayatollah of Rock and Roll-a?"

Josie gave him a glare.

"OK...let's rephrase that, shall we?"

Josie sighed. "I'm worried about Shane, Chris. That's all."

Chris decided not to point out her momentary lapse into familiarity. "We're all worried about him, babe. But we gotta worry about you right now. Triple H laid you out pretty hard." He reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Who the hell else is gonna keep the boss in line if we lose you?"

Josie smiled, despite the pain and the situation. "If nothing else, Chris, you're great for a laugh."

Chris blushed. "I'd like to be more than that...a good laugh, I mean." At Josie's look, he continued: "I'd like to be your friend, Josie."

Josie looked down at her feet for a while. "I'd--I think I'd like that. Chris." She sniffed.

Chris looked at her. "You wanna tell be why the hell you nearly got yourself killed today?"

Josie blinked. "Irvine, what are you talking about?"

"You could have gotten Matt or Jeff or Hugh or any of the other guys," Chris pointed out. "Hell, the security team, the refs, ANYONE else. But no--Miss Josie has to run in and face the big bad wolf."

"Because I can," she retorted. "Because there wasn't time to--"

"Because it was SHANE," Chris shot back. "If it was any of us, it would have been wrestlers or security geeks. But, noooooooo. Only YOU can save your precious 'Mister McMahon'." Josie started to say something, but Chris raised one hand. "Shut up," he said.

 

Josie glared.

 

"He's a good guy...what's so bad about admitting you have a little bit of a crush on Shane?"

"Because I don't have a little bit of a crush on Sh-- _him_ ," she retorted heatedly.

"OK, you have a big, fat, ENORMOUS crush on Shane..."

"I do NOT!"

"Then why do you blush every single time you say his name? 'Shane', that is, and not 'Mister McMahon'? Trust me, of all the guys to fall for Shane McMahon isn't the worst one in the world," Chris said. "Look, loosen up with a little with him, will ya? Would it kill you to call him 'Shane' once in a while?"

Josie shook her head. "I can't, Chris...I can't."

Chris looked down and took her hand. "Whatever it is, kid, it's not that bad. Really."

"I--it's just..." Josie shook her head. She lived with it for THIS long; she could live a little bit longer. She didn't want to depend on people; she couldn't depend on people. She looked at Chris again, his blue eyes wide with concern--real concern--and she couldn't even tell him why without looking like--well--a bitch. Josie hiccuped once, then burst into furious tears. Maybe it was the loss of adrenaline or even the overwhelming emotion, but she couldn't stop the tears from coming.

"Hey, it's OK, kiddo. Shhh, it's OK," Chris said over and over, until she calmed down.

"If you ever tell another single soul you saw me cry, I swear to God Irvine--" Josie threatened.

"Secret's safe with me, Miss D," Chris said. "Look, I'm gonna go find that doctor and give him what for. We'll talk later, OK?"

Josie nodded her head.

He gave her another winning smile, then went in search for the doctor. But, Christopher Irvine, known to the world at large as Chris Jericho, was starting to hatch a plan in his head. _'Damn it...somebody needs to take care of that girl...'_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She'd fought feeling a part of this group, this odd little collected family for so long. She'd slipped up in the past, getting too familiar. Now they informed her that regardless of her efforts to push them away, they were dragging her in. By the heels if necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PPV/Wrestling Timeline for this chapter** : Just after the Summerslam debacle

"Hey, boss," Chris said to Josie as they were passing the in lobby of the hotel they were all staying in while the WCW tour was in Houston. In the two weeks since Shane's injuries, Chris had become a permanent fixture at Josie's side, whether in the office or on the road as they currently were. He brought Josie her lunch, ran errands for her, and tried to get her to talk about how SHE was feeling in the aftermath of SummerSlam and the attack that had taken their leader out from under them all. In short, Chris had become 'the executive assistant to the executive assistant' as he liked to put it. She smacked him for it a few times.

Shane and Linda had asked her to carry as much of Shane's logistical responsibilities as she could manage while he was laid up recoving from the collapsed lung he'd gotten at Summerslam. He was in near constant communications with her but he couldn't be in the office while he healed, it was doctor's orders. Josie became Shane's eyes, ears and sometimes voice in the organization. Josie had taken over for Shane backstage with help from some of the senior members of the road crew, like Arn Anderson and Mike Tenay. She had finally knuckled under and bought a brand new Nokia cell, which she seemed to be on all the time. Shane wasn't due to come back to work full-time for several weeks, because of his injuries, but the show had to go on. 

She had an MBA from Harvard and she had run her own division of a powerful and highly successful advertising agency. This was the sort of thing that she was trained to do. In a way, this was ultimately the reason that all those months before, Shane plucked her out of a cattlecall of fifty people. Eventually, she would end up being in this role.

"Hi, Chris. Mister McMahon, hold on a sec," Josie said, holding her hand over the receiver of her cell phone. "Chris, can you do me a favor and find Adams for me? Cabot the idiot changed their promo AGAIN and I have to give it the once over, thanks."

Josie looked like HELL, Chris thought critically; her hair was pulled back tightly, her normally impeccable suit jacket was wrinkled to hell and there were bags under her eyes. Most tellingly, the scar she'd received at SummerSlam stood out in an angry red line from her pale skin. Chris held out his hand and snapped his fingers. "Gimme the phone, Josephine," he said, in the tone that meant he would brook no argument from her. "McMahon...Irvine. She's taking the night off. No more errands, no more fixing shit-all, she's having dinner with me then going to sleep. Got that?"

"I feel fine, Chris, thanks for asking." Shane sounded grouchy and Chris knew it was because he didn't like being confined to his quarters but he was running Josie ragged because she did not--would not--say 'no' to McMahon for anything.

"Shane, she looks like hell and she needs to rest," he said, ignoring her attempts to take the phone away from him. "I mean it. Let her take a night off."

"Is she really that bad?"

"She works all the time, McMahon. Give her ten freakin' hours...then you can run her ragged again."

"Christopher, how DARE you!" Josie screamed as she tried and failed to pull his arm down and get her phone back. "Christopher Keith Irvine, you give me that phone this instant!"

"Shut up, Josie. Shane, you still there?" Chris was holding Josie back with one hand, phone to his ear with the other.

Silence. "Lemme talk to her for a minute, Chris."

"NO. You'll just be telling her to do more."

"I swear to God, I won't...just let me talk to her."

Chris gave Josie back the phone. "1732," he said to her, pushing a keycard into her free hand. "Be there in five minutes or I WILL find you and throw you over my shoulder." He stormed off towards the hotel.

"Mister McMahon, I apologize--" Josie started to say, trying to fix her out of place hair nervously with one hand.

"No, Jo...I apologize. I've been taking advantage of you and your willingness to help while I'm out of commission," he said. "He's right. Take the night off. He started with 'Irvine' and started barking, so it must be pretty bad. Go eat dinner and get some sleep."

"Mister McMahon, it's OK. I can..."

"You can get you ass in gear and get off the phone," he said. "The promo will go as originally scripted. I'll take care of that from here with Arn. You get some rest. And thank you. I don't know what I would do without you there, Jo."

Josie grinned. "You're welcome," she said simply.

"Thank me by calling me Shane," he said.

Josie smiled again. This line was repeated so much, it was a game. "Good night, Mister McMahon." She turned the cell phone off.

 

There was a knock on the door. "Come in, Josie," Chris said, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading.

"I oughta wring your neck," she snapped as she entered the hotel room. She blinked when she saw her luggage at the foot of the bed.

The queen-sized bed.

The only bed in the room.

"What is that," she asked as calmly as she could manage as she pointed at her luggage, "doing here?"

"You're staying with me," Chris said.

"Wait a damned minute," she started to say.

"Sweetheart, we are ALL worried to death about you." Chris crossed his arms. "When was the last time you took a day off?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to ME," Chris said. "It matters to me, it matters to the crew, it matters to everyone. You aren't going to do me, or Shane, or anyone else in this organization any good by destroying yourself to keep WCW running. Now go take a shower and get changed. We're going to dinner with the Hardys and Amy."

"Excuse you?" Josie couldn't remember the last time someone ran roughshod over her like this.

"Get in the shower before I throw you in," Chris said with his teeth gritted. "Wash your hair, get into something casual, put some makeup on because you look like death warmed over and get ready to eat dinner."

"Who on earth do you think you are?" Josie exploded.

"I think I'm the guy who promised Linda McMahon that I would take care of you," Chris said. "And she may not be here, but if she was she would tell me to do the same damned thing, so get in the shower Josephine, before I strip you naked and throw you in myself and don't you dare think I won't."

Josie stared at him. 

Chris stared at her. 

She stormed off in the direction of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her hard enough to make the windows rattle.

"Good girl," Chris chuckled. He had already unpacked his suitcase when he arrived; he set about unpacking hers. He clucked at the wrinkled jackets and slacks; he set about placing all of them on hangers with the dry cleaners tag on them and set them on the chair to be put out later. He spied a yellow t-shirt type top and blue jeans at the bottom of her bag and he grabbed them, knowing she would scream once she realized she had taken a shower without a change of clothes.

Next he opened the zippered section of the case because he knew that was where the underwear would be. Women's underwear didn't embarrass Chris in the least. He found that you could tell a lot about a woman by the lingerie she wore every day...not the kind she wore for dates, of course. Those were for a making a great impression. He was not surprised to find that all of her underwear were matched sets, comfortable cotton, or that they were varying pastel hues. He picked a yellow set and took them and the shirt and jeans to the bathroom door. He heard the water turn off the second he got to the door.

"GODDAMMIT!" he heard.

Chris chuckled and knocked on the door. "Oh, princess?"

Josie's wet head popped out of the doorway. "WHAT?"

He silently handed her the clothes.

She glared at him, grabbed her clothes and slammed the door shut again.

Ten minutes later, Josie came out of the bathroom, dressed in her Irvine-approved outfit. Her hair was still damp and there was still a look of outrage on her face. "You went through my UNDERWEAR?" she half shouted.

"I've seen bras and panties before. Occupational hazard," he said. Chris was wearing a simple grey pullover and blue jeans, his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. "You look much better," he said quietly. Her eyes didn't look nearly as raccoon-ish. "Feel better?"

Josie said nothing, but rummaged around her overnight bag for her makeup kit. She quickly slid some lipstick on. "Let's go," she said, sliding her feet into black loafers.

"That's it? Just some lipstick?" Chris clicked his tongue against his teeth. He marched her and the makeup bag into the bathroom. He dug out her powder compact, some plum eye shadow and a sort of rose colored blush as he closed the toilet seat. "Sit," he ordered.

"What the hell are you--"

He shoved her down on the closed toilet. "For Christ's sake, why do you INSIST on being so difficult?" he asked. He took the compact. "Close, please," he ordered.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Close, or I put you in a sleeper hold and we do this the hard way." Chris's mouth was in a hard, firm line.

Josie sighed in resignation then closed her eyes. She relaxed as she felt gentle pats and sweeps on her face, then an applicator sweep her lids gently. She tried not to jump as she felt a brush drag over her upper lid, just under the eyebrows. The brush also made a sweep over her cheeks. She noticed that the sweep was lighter on the right side and stopped before it hit the still sore cut.

"You could be a model with those cheeks," Chris muttered. "Where's your lip brush?"

"My what?" It might be the single strangest question Chris had ever asked her.

"For the lip color."

Josie blushed. "Um? I don't have one?" she admitted.

"Philistine," Chris muttered, reopening the tube of mauvy colored lipstick she currently barely wore. He carefully reapplied it. "OK...open and go to the mirror."

Josie did so with trepidation. The sight that met her shocked her to her toes. She had been sure she would end up looking like one of the valets that accompanied the wrestlers...thick shadow, slashes of blush on each cheek, garish lips.

Instead, she looked...she looked PRETTY. The sweep across her brows had been blush that was applied to her upper lids. Her cheeks looked healthy and rosy and her lips perfect. She looked like a magazine ad. She didn't even see the cut on her face.

Josie's eyes flew to Chris' in curiosity, who was leaned against the door. She pointed at her face. "How? Where?"

"I've spent the last ten years traveling with women backstage," Chris said. "You figure I was going to learn something. We're going to be late, come on."

Josie followed Chris into the lobby obediently for once in her life.

"Hey, Jos?"

"Yes, Chris?"

"I meant what I said...about your being a model, I mean," he said. "You could be one."

Josie blushed and took his hand in her own to squeeze it once--like it was something she did all the time and not a first occurrence. "Thank you, Chris," she said.

It was Chris's turn to blush. "We're all just worried about you," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze back. "You're working too hard. Look, there they are. JEFF!"

"Hey man...WOW, you look great, Miss D," Jeff Hardy said.

"Thanks, Jeff," Josie said shyly.

"Hey, yo, Jericho," Matt Hardy called out, holding the hand of Amy Dumas. "You look better," he said to Josie. "We've been really worried about you."

Josie blinked in surprise. "Why?"

"Because you did something we would never do," Matt said. "You took on Hunter Hearst Helmsley and kicked his ass. Hunt scares the shit outta me. You're our fuc--freaking hero."

"You're kidding." They were outside the hotel now and walking towards the rental car.

"Miss Donnelly, you have all of our support," he continued as they walked. "You gotta stop killing yourself." Matt opened the door for her. "We already lost Shane-O for a while...we lose you too, we all gonna go under."

Josie blinked again.

"I told you people were worried about you, angel," Chris said gently. "Even people who have legit heat between each other? They're making sure that they stay in line while Shane's out, just to give you an easier time."

"We trust you, Miss D and we know that Shane trusts you," Amy said. "That's why Shane put you in charge while he's out...we all know that."

"He could have called the hard asses from Stamford, but he wants this in house," Chris said. "The feud ISN'T an angle anymore, Josie. It's for real. Hunter crossed the line and Vince let him whether he wanted to or not. There is going to be hell to pay before this is over. And guess who landed right in the eye of the storm, sweetheart?"

"But, don't you worry, Miss Donnelly," Jeff said, pulling out of the parking lot. "We all decided that we're gonna take good care o'you. You need anything, you can count on us, 'kay?"

Josie looked around the car. She'd fought feeling a part of this group, this odd little collected family for so long. She'd slipped up in the past, getting too familiar. Now they informed her that regardless of her efforts to push them away, they were dragging her in. By the heels if necessary. "I--I don't know...thank you."

Chris wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Our pleasure, Miss D."

"Must you?" Josie sighed tragically. Amy giggled.

 

Later that evening, Josie sat on the bed in Room 1732, pondering the events of the last few hours. She had always been a loner. She had no close friends in high school or college. There had been a few people she associated with at Jackson-Coe, her former job, but once she was fired she couldn't even bear to talk to them. They only served to remind her of her fatal mistakes.

She expected to be a loner her whole life. Fate conspired to make that a falsehood. She remembered how miserable she was her first road trip with Shane. It was based around the jealousy she felt from wanting to feel a part of the group she was with, but refusing herself to. Never allowing herself open up. Events had conspired to force her to out of sheer necessity. Now the 'Miss D's that came her way were laced with affection and regard.

"Hey," a soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Chris was wearing a tank top and shorts for bed. "Nickel for your thoughts?"

She smiled at Chris. No one conspired more than Chris Irvine to pull her from the outside in. She didn't really understand why, but she sensed that he wanted nothing from her, nothing in return for his kindness. "Nickel?" she repeated. "I though it was a penny?"

Chris shrugged. "Inflation," he replied, and sat on the bed with the book he'd reached down to collect from his overnight bag..

Josie laughed. "You're too clever for your own good."

"Oh yeah," he agreed. "I'm so sharp I'm surprised I don't cut myself with my own rapier wit." He slipped under the covers with the book and putting on his spectacles, a sight not many got to see. 

"What you reading?" she asked. He might have told her not to work, but she was reading the complimentary USAToday that had been left in the room.

"C.S. Lewis. The Screwtape Letters."

Josie raised her eyebrow. "A little light reading before bed?" she teased.

"Well, yeah...OK, NO...but I forgot Narnia at home, and I needed a C.S. fix."

"Narnia?" Josie said, laying on her side. "The kid's book?"

"Narnia is not a 'kid's book'," Chris said in a tone that made it clear it wasn't the first time he'd had to clarify the erroneous statement. "It's allegory. It just happens to appeal to kids." Chris grinned. "Where do you think I got the Lion thing from?"

Josie shook her head. She learned more and more about Chris every time they spoke. "No clue."

"I'll lend you The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe when we get back to 'Lanta," Chris said. "I think you'll like it. I'll explain the allegory, if you don't get it."

Josie shrugged. "You don't have to," she said. "I was never a big reader. I mean, I like biographies and more non-fiction sort of things. I love movies."

"Which ones?" Chris said eagerly, putting down his book.

She sighed and picked the paper back up. "Chris, go on and read...you don't have to chit-chat to be polite," Josie said.

"I want to chit-chat," Chris said. "I like chit-chatting with you. I forget all about being Y2J for a while. I'm just Chris. That dumb arrogant guy from Canada who reads C.S. Lewis and wanted to win a gold medal playing water polo."

Josie smiled. "I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," she said.

"Even if you do remind me of my third-grade teacher, Miss Caven. God, she scared me."

"Whaaat?"

Chris grinned. "That first day in Shane's office? Right after he signed me to WCW? When you called me 'Mister Irvine', I swear I was back in Winnipeg, getting in trouble from Miss Caven. She scared the piss outta me."

Josie was flabbergasted. "I remind you of your third grade teacher?"

"You USED to remind me of my third grade teacher," Chris clarified. "That was back in the day when you didn't know how to smile, never wore your hair down and didn't say 'boo' to three people." Chris gave her a secret little grin when he added, "That was also before I knew that you could kick my ass in six seconds flat without breaking a nail."

Josie blushed. "I cannot," she mumbled.

"Oh, yes you can," Chris said. "I've studied a little martial arts, when I was in Japan. What are you, any way?"

Josie sighed, knowing the truth would come out sooner rather than later. "Tae kwon do. Third degree. Working on fourth."

"You've got talent," Chris nodded. "That one kick you leveled Hunter with...that was art."

"I kind of had to level him," Josie pointed out. "He was trying to choke me to death."

"True...very true." Chris yawned. "What's the schedule for tomorrow, boss lady?"

"You've got a meet and greet at Borders for the new video," Josie rattled off, pushing the paper aside. "The Hardys and Lita, The Cat, Ms. Jones and the Filthy Animals are all at Hard Rock Café and I have to go over last minute script changes with Cabot the jackass."

"Cool. They teach you how remember this stuff at Harvard?" Chris mumbled.

"Chris, can I ask you a question?"

"Su---yaaaaaaaaawn---re."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doin' what?" Chris reached over and turned off the light on his side of the bed. "Turn the light off, will ya, Jos?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" she asked after she turned off the light. The room was bathed in a strangely comfortable darkness, a serene one. It wasn't something Josie was used to having around her.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Why should you?"

Chris sighed. "Look...I know we didn't get off on a good foot in the beginning. But you've got guts. I respect that. And you have principles. I respect that too. And you look like you need a friend...someone who will take care of you. So I just decided that someone should be me. OK? Can we get to sleep now?" Chris let out another loud yawn. "Bullying you is tiring work."

Josie laughed lightly. "Sure. Go to sleep." She settled herself down, fluffing up the extra pillow that she had requested. She felt the bed shift and the weight of Chris's long arm around her. Josie stopped breathing. It was different the first time this had happened. She was upset and hurt from worry and the beating she had taken, worried if Shane would actually make it through the night, not really able to stop herself from resting in a warm embrace that she hadn't felt in a very long time. What was bringing this on now? Was she wrong? Did Chris want something more from her? "Um...Chris?"

"Hmmm?"

"You OK?"

"Hmmm."

"Why is your arm around me?"

Silence for a moment. "Dunno. Feels right, I guess." Chris moved closer, getting both arms around her. "Just so you know that you're safe while I'm here. You want me to stop? I can stop. I forget you're not touchy feely like the rest of--"

Josie relaxed, letting her body mold to his. "No," she said cutting him off. "You don't have to stop. I--It's fine."

"Good. Go t'sleep, Jos. Night."

"Good night...Lion Heart."

Chris sat up a little. "I haven't heard that name in years," he said, not sure about the mixed feelings the moniker brought up.

"It suits you," she said. "The proud king protecting his cubs."

Chris smiled as he lay back down, wrapped his arm around Josie's waist again. "Cute," he mumbled. "Sleep, angel."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Cut that out."

"Sorry. Night, Chris."

"Night, angel."

"My name's not Angel."

"Woman, will you please go the hell to sleep?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jo, I mean it. Thank you. For everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: happens three weeks after Chapter 5

"These numbers are incredible!" Shane was reading the latest rating reports that Josie had brought him at his condo. Shane had bought the place when he purchased WCW, but hadn't spent much real time in it between meetings, road trips, nearly getting killed in the ring. SummerSlam changed that. He was forced into walking with a cane, mandated by the doctors to remain at home and not to work full days. Required to take multiple pills to fight infection, pain and whatever else the whitecoats decided to come up with.

With his mother's help he had managed to convince Jo to handle the day to day running of the company. It made the most sense. She knew where all the records were, she knew most of the people who needed to be in or out of certain loops and he knew that all the talent would listen to her. Shane had discussed it with his mother at length and Linda had agreed with his decision. Jo running things meant Jo having to talk to Shane on a near constant basis. When she wasn't on the phone with him, they were conversing via Instant Messaging. When they weren't talking via the 'Net, it was because she was at his condo, getting signatures and dealing with things that simply couldn't be discussed via wires.

"We're creeping up to SmackDown numbers with Turbo," she noted. "We may be ready to start re-launching Thunder. Or increase Nitro on Monday nights back to a three hour show."

Shane gave her a look. "We're not ready to take on Raw, are we?"

"We may never know, unless we try," Josie said. She sat on the couch next to Shane. "If we keep waiting for the right time, it may never come. I think we should go for it. The numbers might be down for a few months, but we keep doing what we have been...not worrying about what your father and sister are doing, continuing to work on our own style, we'll be OK. The fans like it and as long as we keep them happy, they'll push us to the top."

Shane nodded. "Can I get you something? You want some water?" Shane struggled to get up, muttering curses at the cane as he managed to get to his feet.

"Sh--Mister McMahon, don't bother, here let me..."

"NO! I mean...I'm fine. I can do it." It took Shane a bit to get off the couch but he did with a few swears coming from under his breath. He hobbled over to the kitchen. "How about a Coke?"

"Sure." Josie shoved down the need to go over and help him. Shane needed to be able to do this one little thing, just so he could feel more in control of things around him. This convalescence wasn't easy for him; frankly, it wasn't easy for any of them. She knew that feeling a little too well so she smiled and didn't fuss as he slowly made his way over with the can of soda. "Thanks, Sh--Mister McMahon."

"I heard that," he chuckled, sitting down. "It's OK. I've been telling you for months to call me 'Shane'."

"You know my answer to that. How are YOU holding up right now?" Josie asked, taking a sip of coke.

"Still sore as hell," Shane admitted. "It's not so bad." At her look, he amended, "OK yeah, it's pretty fucking bad. I'd rather be 'sore' than 'dead' or 'severely injured and still in the hospital' with a tube up my tube, though. Thanks to you, I'm here at home--or what passes for it--to BE sore." Shane took Josie's free hand in his own. "I never did say thank you," he said quietly. "For what you did, I mean. You didn't have to. Save my ass, I mean."

Josie blushed. "It was nothing," she muttered and tried to gently disengage her hand.

"Bullshit," Shane said. He reached out tentatively and touched the scar on Josie's cheek. "THIS is not 'nothing'." The moment his finger touched her cheek, there was an electric current that ran through them both. They were silent for long minutes, with Shane's hand resting on her cheek. "Jo, I mean it. Thank you. For everything." Shane took a deep breath and leaned over slowly and kissed Josie's cheek.

Josie shot up off the couch. "Um--I, I should go, Shane--Mister McMahon. You really do need your rest. I'll call tomorrow with the minutes from the last board meeting. Have a good night." She flew out the front door of the condo before Shane could even say a word.

"What the hell?" Shane sat back. _'There was something there. I felt it. I know I did.'_

Josie was leaning against the front door of Shane's condo, her hand over her heart. _'Oh God, he kissed me. Oh God, he kissed me and I liked it. Oh, God, oh, God....'_

 

Chris picked up the phone. He had been in the middle of a dream, a dream he wanted to get back to. A dream featuring a very lovely blonde he had his eye on for a while now. "What?" he muttered crankily as he picked up.

"Chris...Shane."

"What, Shane?" Chris sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Is--is Jo there?"

Chris sat up slowly, clicking the light on and checking the clock. Christ, how. "Why would she be, Boy Wonder?"

"Um, I think she's gonna be there soon if she's not."

"Why would she be, Boy Wonder?" Chris repeated with an edge to his voice.

"Cause." Shane paused. "Um...'cause I kind of...kissed her."

"WHAT!?" Chris was completely awake. "What the hell--"

"It was only on the cheek, Chris, I swear to God!" Shane was still sitting on his couch, still in shock. "I just kissed her on the cheek! She freaked and ran like a shot, and since you're her best friend or something like that, I figured I'd better warn you..."

"...and pump me for WHY she would take off like a shot," Chris finished for him. "Nuh-uh, Junior. THAT is privileged information. When she wants to tell you, she will."

"Aw, COME ON..."

"Nope. You were stupid enough to scare her, YOU get to pry the information out of her. I'm not breaking that one, Shane," Chris said firmly as the doorbell started ringing frantically. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some nerves to calm. TOOL." Chris clicked the phone off as he went to get the door. "I'm coming, Josie, keep your shirt on!" He threw the door open.

She was standing, bag over her shoulder and a shocked look on her face. "How did you know it was..."

Chris waved the telephone in his hand in the air. "Because Shane just woke me out of a perfectly great dream to warn me that you were tearing over here like a bat out of hell." Chris grabbed her by the shoulders, kicked the door shut and planted her in the easy chair. "I think you've given him a total complex."

Josie started to sniffle. "It was--I can't---it's---"

Chris sat on the arm of the chair and grabbed her in his arms. "Yeah...I know." He smoothed her hair down gently. "Jos, you've GOT to stop fighting this. Not every guy in the world is Steven Cooper, and not every guy in the world is out to hurt you."

"It's not me i'm worried about hurting," she snapped back. "He's my BOSS, Chris," she said. "I did it once and screwed up. I can't do that again. I won't do that again. I'm a terrible human being--"

"You are not. You did it once to be a big shot," Chris pointed out. "I don't think that's how you feel about Shane. I think you really care for him...that's why you ran."

"Because he deserves better than me," Josie sniffed.

Chris smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. "Angel, they don't make them better than you." He wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "Now, I want you to march right on back over to Shane's and apologize. Then I want you to really TALK to him...not about what happened, but WHY it happened."

Josie shook her head. "No. I can't..."

Chris sighed. "I'm not telling you to tell the guy you're in love with him. Just tell him WHY you took off. That's all." He shook his head. "Sheesh...you can dismantle Hunter without a second thought, but have a conversation with Simba the Boy Wonder? Nope, you go all girly on me."

"I do not," Josie muttered.

"Oh, yes you do," Chris teased. "You're all girly and 'eek eek' right now."

"You take that back!" Josie yelled, punching him in the arm.

"Nope, you're a chicken girly-girl!" Chris danced in the living room. "Girly girl, girly girl, girly-OW!" he yelped at the spinning heel kick Josie floored him with.

"How many girly girls can do THAT, Jericho?" she asked, fists balled up on her hips as she glared down at him. Josie always seemed to know the precise line that separated Chris Irvine, her dear friend and confidante, from Chris Jericho, jackass extraordinaire...and Chris was DEFINITELY in Jericho mode.

"Not many," he admitted. "Go talk to the man, Josephine."

"Oh boy...I am in trouble," she muttered.

"Out. Don't come back without details. Comprendé, senorita?"

"Sí, Señor pain-in-the-ass."

"You'll love me for it later."

"I hate you for it now. I'm going, Christopher." Josie sighed. "Got back to sleep, or whatever--or whomever-it was you were doing."

"I am wounded to the quick, sweet angel," Chris protested. "I would never."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Josie slammed the door behind her.

 

It took a few minutes for Shane to hobble over to the door. "In a minute!" he bellowed out. He opened the door. "Jo?" he said in surprise.

"Can I come in...Shane?"

Shane nodded. "Sure," he said quickly.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Josie muttered. "Please sit, so I don't feel even worse than I already do," she pleaded.

"You can't possibly feel any worse that I do," Shane said. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable."

"It's not your fault," she said. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. You were being gracious and heartfelt about your feelings. I took it all the wrong way. Then I bolted."

"I'd like to think that we're friends, at least," Shane said. "Friends can talk to each other about things like that...can't they?" 'Like you do with Chris...' the thought came to his unruly mind.

Josie took a deep breath. "I--I really don't have that many friends," she replied. "Never have."

"Who are you kidding?" Shane asked in amazement. "You've got Amy, and Jeff and Matt. And Sharmell. And Chris...hell, Chris thinks the world of you, you know that. And me..." Shane blushed. "We ARE friends, aren't we?"

Josie couldn't help but hug Shane at that moment. "Of course we are," she said. And was surprised that she meant it, it wasn't just empty words to keep him from getting too worked up. "Shane, I'm sorry for hurting your feelings. I'm...I'm just used to people hurting me and using me. OK no, that's not really accurate." She looked down at her shoes. "I'm used to--manipulating and using people to get ahead and expecting the same. I don't know how to deal with kindness. In either direction."

Shane pulled away and took Josie's hands in his own. "Jo. I know that this is a crazy world you landed in," he said, "but there's only one rule: take care of each other. We watch each other's backs...because no-one else is going to. And you've watched my back in ways you can't even comprehend. I understand what you're saying. Hell if there's anyone who really gets that, it's probably me. Look at my freaking family. But I am grateful to you...beyond words. Really. What you've been doing isn't easy. What you did wasn't easy. I just--wanted you to know that."

Josie felt like a corner had turned between them. Looking into Shane's dark eyes, feeling the caring there, the genuine emotion. "Yeah. Well. I'm still not calling you Shane," she teased.

"You just did it three times in five minutes. I'll get you yet." Shane grinned. 'God, what I wouldn't do to kiss her for real. I wish I could tell her...' He winced.

"Oh, God...all this," Josie clucked. "Where's the Vicodin?"

"Jo, knock it off. I'm fine," Shane pleaded as she went off to get the medicine and a glass of water for him to wash it down with.

She shoved open bottle and glass at him. "Drink," she ordered in full 'Miss Donnelly' mode.

"Yes, ma'am," Shane replied, taking the meds. "Gah...I hate this shit. Tastes like chalk."

"That's what you get for having nearly three hundred pound of idiot pound on your ribs for a while," Josie noted coolly. "Don't do that anymore, we won't have these kind of problems."

"Yeah, well," Shane shrugged. "It's a gift. Getting guys to pound on me, I mean."

Josie shook her head. "I just don't get you, sometimes."

"What's not to get?" Shane said. "I was born into wrestling. I like to wrestle."

"And you don't mind get pounded into a pulp?"

"I never said THAT." Shane frowned. He could feel that there was something else under the surface of this random exchange between them. "Hey. Are you really OK?"

Josie nodded her head. "I think so. Shane."

Shane smiled. "Thanks. I needed that."

Josie blushed. "I should let you get some rest," she said. "Don't get up, I'll let myself out."

"I could order dinner next time?" he called out hopefully.

"I--" She frowned for a moment. He was trying. How hard was it to at least try back? "that would be nice," she finally answered.

"I'll call you tomorrow, OK?" Shane asked.

"I know you will," Josie teased. "At 9:15 when I get settled, at 12 noon, just as I'm getting ready to go to lunch and for the 3:30 report."

"Am I that predictable?" Shane teased back.

"Yes. You are," Josie said. "Good night, Shane."

"Good night, Miss Donnelly."

Josie froze in mid-step.

"See how ANNOYING that is?' Shane asked with a smirk.

"Why do I even bother..." She muttered as she closed the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next night, Josie walked up to Shane's door with trepidation in her heart, but determined to attempt to act like a normal person. _'I did it with Chris.I can do this with Mister--SHANE. I can do this with Shane.'_

The next night, Josie walked up to Shane's door with trepidation in her heart, but determined to attempt to act like a normal person. _'I did it with Chris.I can do this with Mister--SHANE. I can do this with Shane.'_ She knocked on the door. "Come on in, Jo," she heard muffed through the door, "it's open.". She turned the knob. There was a wonderful smell that filled the air when she entered and it made her stomach growl loudly. Josie had skipped lunch and she was starving.

"I hope you like Thai," Shane said. He was settled on the couch, in a pair of black sweats and a black Wrestlemania jersey. "I've been craving it and there's this great new restaurant around the corner that delivers."

Josie chuckled as she eased her laptop case off her shoulder and sank into the couch. "I half expected to hear you say you had this flown in from New York," she teased. Whatever it was it smelled like Chinese and delicious and she was willing to at least try it. She wasn't always the most adventurous of eaters. She was still fighting Chris on sushi and she didn't care what anyone said, she was not eating the feet of any creature ever.

"God knows, I was tempted," Shane admitted. "There's this great place in the Village. Come on, dig in before it gets really cold."

Josie grabbed a plate and loaded it with the fragrant rice and a chicken dish she didn't recognize. She took a small bite. "Mmm. It's good," she said in surprise.

"Midwesterner," Shane teased. "How was your day?"

"Long," Josie admitted. "Marketing and Creative have been bickering all day." She put her plate down. "I'm sorry, Mister McMahon, I've have GOT to do this." She reached back and undid the clip in her hair, placing it in her pocket. She ran her fingers through her golden locks, massaging her scalp. "Oh, that feels better. I have the worst headache from that thing," she said.

Shane was spellbound by Josie's hair cascading from its confinement. "So--ah--so why do you...uhm. Wear it? Back? It's pretty. I mean it looks better down," Shane stammered like a sixth-grader trying to get the question out.

"Why do I do anything?" Josie said, shrugging her shoulders as she picked up her plate again. "Appearances, I guess."

"You worry too much about what other people think about you," Shane said critically, taking another bite. "You need to stop."

"Now isn't that the kettle calling the pot black?" she retorted. "This is REALLY good." Josie closed her eyes, savoring the exotic tastes in her mouth. "What IS it?"

"Like it, huh?" Shane chuckled. "That's just Kai Yang with Khao Niao."

"HUH?"

Shane chuckled. "Barbecued chicken and rice in English," he said. "Got those contracts for me?"

"In my bag," Josie said, swallowing quickly. "Legal cleared them this morning."

"Great." Shane reached over to pull the bag closer. "Mind if I grab them?"

Josie shook her head, her mouth full of chicken.

Shane pulled on the strap of the bag, and winced slightly. _'Please don't notice that.'_

"Shane, are you OK?"

Shane gave her a wan smile. "I'm just in an awkward position," he lied. He moved to stand up, intending to walk over and pull what he needed out of it. Just sitting on the couch, eating dinner and chatting, made him forget that he was injured. He winced outright when he tried to bounce out of the seat like he had always done before.

"SHANE!" Josie half scolded, half yelped. "I'll get it, Mister McMahon," she said. "Relax."

"Goddammit, I want to get the fucking bag!" Shane exploded. All of the time of being confined to his condo, of not being able to move as fast as he wanted to, of having to walk with a cane, finally came bubbling to the surface. "I can't even pick up a freaking two pound bag on my own, for Christ's sake!" He landed a savage kick at his cane, sending it flying. "I hate THAT fucking thing. Aw hell." He sank back down to the couch, his tirade taking more out of him than he wanted to admit and his hand automatically went to his injured side.

Josie calmly inched closer to Shane. "Want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No." he said shortly. "I want my fucking life back, that's what I want. I want to go to work. I want to go to a freaking house show. I want," he said looking at her, studying her face with an intensity that made Josie slide back. "I want THAT gone," he said, pointing at her scar. "I know a doctor, he's the best, he can make it look like nothing ever happened."

Josie lifted her chin stubbornly. "It stays," she declared. It was still a deep red line on the apple of her cheek. Not nearly as angry or visible as it had been but it was there.

"I said I hate that thing," Shane muttered. "I hate it and I want it gone."

"It's not as bad as it looks," she said in exasperation. "It's my face, I don't care about it, let it alone."

"Well I care about your face and I want it GONE, Jo!" Shane balled his fists together. "I don't want any reminders, OK?"

"Reminders of what?"

Shane fought tears fighting to get through his overall rage. He was a McMahon, goddammit...McMahons didn't cry, McMahons didn't admit weakness. "I don't want to remember that you had to save me. I don't need saving. I'm Shane McMahon, dammit."

"Oh here we go," she muttered. She'd been warned about this particular tirade by a few people. She'd been expecting but to see it didn't engender anything in her but anger returned. " Excuse my French, but so the fuck what, you're a 'McMahon'?" Josie crossed her arms as she leaned back on the couch. "I need this stupid little scar. What, does it make me look ugly or something? Am I that hideous with it?"

Shane blushed six shades of red. "You could dye your hair more colors than Jeff Hardy and put a turnip where your nose is and you still wouldn't be ugly, Jo."

Josie blushed at the compliment. "I need this stupid little scar. I need it to remind me that I can care about something and some---someone other than myself." She gave Shane a small smile. "This is my reward for not being the selfish, reprehensible bitch I think I am." She leaned over and brushed a few wispy strands from Shane's forehead. "I've learned a lot here, you know. Not just about wrestling, or the business. About people. About trust." She gave Shane a secretive smile. "You know what my best friend keeps telling me?"

"No," Shane whispered when she didn't continue. "What does she tell you?"

"HE, as you damn well know, tells me 'Josie, ya gotta stop being so damn uptight'."

Shane couldn't help but smile at her dead on impression of Chris.

"He says 'Josie, people aren't bad. They aren't going to hurt you, or use you.' That's what this scar tells me, Shane. That I'm not bad. That I'm not the whore I think I am. Not even that I won't get hurt--but I can think of anyone besides myself. Just this one time...I’m the good guy. I’m a babyface."

Shane reached over and gently traced the scar with his thumb. "You're not a whore, Josephine," he said. "I don't think you are. I never did." He wanted to kiss her, a proper one, but didn't want her to run again. "You show in so many ways that you care about people. I don't know what you did before, what happened before--but you aren't what you think you are. You're better than that. You're better than me."

"I need this to remind me, OK?" she said in a quiet voice. She slowly reached her hand up to touch Shane's. "I've.I've kind of grown fond of it, in a perverse sort of way." She liked the way his hand felt against hers; warm to the touch and strong, yet gentle as it rested on her face, his thumb absently tracing the path of the scar.

Shane nodded. He pulled their joined hands away from Josie's face, and laid them on the couch. He didn't like it. He still hated it. But for the time being, he'd stop pushing the issue. "OK. It stays. For now." He sighed. "Can you--"

"Of course." Josie pulled her hand away to drag the bag closer, picking a manila folder out of it. "We might want to head to a cleaner table," she said.

Shane leaned back onto the couch. "I'm kind of wiped out. And I can't reach my cane."

Josie handed Shane the folder as she stood up. She moved to the other side of the couch and took his elbow in one hand. "Here. I'll help."

Shane knew better than to argue. He pushed up and she smoothly helped him out of the seat. She grabbed him by the waist when he wobbled. 

"Easy," she said. "I've got you, Shane, it's OK."

Shane let Josie guide him to the dining room. "You're stronger than you look, lady," he joked.

"Have to be, to deal with stubborn bosses and more stubborn Marketing managers," she joked back. "Think you can make it to a chair on your own?"

"Am I too heavy?"

"No. Just wanted to ask you to try on your own. Unless you're not up to it?"

Shane shook his head. "I'm not," he said. But it made him feel better that she had asked if he wanted to.

Josie smiled. That was a huge admission for him. She guided him to the nearest chair, pulling it out with one foot. Shane sighed audibly as he settled into it. "Want something to drink?" she asked.

"Yeah. A scotch."

"Aaaaaannnd since you can't HAVE a scotch on your pain meds, how about some juice?"

Shane frowned. "There's some apple juice in the fridge. I still want a scotch."

"Well I want a pony but that's not going to happen anytime soon either," Josie teased. She handed him his glass of juice. She set her own glass down, watching him as he read through the first contract. She walked back into the living room to retrieve a pen and her laptop, and laid the pen next to Shane's hand as he flipped the pages.

"Thanks, Jo," he muttered. He signed the first contract with a flourish and pulled the second one out of the folder. Josie turned on her laptop and started clacking away on the keyboard once it booted up. They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, her sending out the e-mails that had come in from late in the afternoon, including a check-in with Linda McMahon. He checked the latest rating reports, went over some figures for an internal accounting audit that Josie would have to fill in for him for. "I think that's it," Shane said, after about half an hour and signing the last document. "We can get these in the books and make more money. How are those scouting reports going?"

Josie pushed the laptop over to Shane.

He skimmed over the screen. "Looks good. Can you get these printed up for me by tomorrow?"

Josie nodded. "Not a problem," she said. She glanced down at her watch. "I should get going. It's late and you need you rest."

"Please stay," Shane pleaded. "Just a little bit longer. It's--OK I'm lonely. I talk to Mom on the phone, but you're the only person I get to see on a semi-regular basis." The words spilled out of Shane's mouth before he could stop them. "Just a little while longer."

Josie couldn't help but smile at Shane's earnest request. "What did you want me to do?" she asked, holding up her hands. "I can't juggle very well and dancing is out unless I have a partner."

"Let's just watch a movie," Shane said eagerly. "I got a ton of DVDs. It's no fun watching movies alone. You need somebody around to heckle with ya."

Josie laughed. "You have any popcorn?"

"I think so, check the cabinet." Shane grabbed his cane. "I'll go pick a movie."

"Slow DOWN, Mister McMahon, before you break something," she teased.

"Can't you just call me Shane for tonight?" he asked. "How about Blade?"

"Too boring."

"Blade is--Jeeze. How about The Abyss?"

"Director's Cut?"

"Nope."

"Natch that." She had found the box of microwave popcorn and had put a packet in to pop.

"Event Horizon?"

Josie shuddered. "Only if I get to spend the night here and you hold my hand the whole movie."

 _Oh the temptation._ Shane bit his tongue. "The Mummy?"

"I think we have a winner."

"The Mummy it is, then," Shane said. "You want the widescreen or the regular?"

"What kind of question is that? Widescreen, please," Josie said. She listened to the corn pop. "Popcorn is more fun if it's Jiffy Pop," she mused absently.

"Yeah," Shane said, hobbling back to the couch. "Jiffy Pop RULES."

Josie cleared up the remains of dinner, keeping one ear trained on the popcorn. "I never got to have it when I was a kid."

"Me either. We were too good for Jiffy Pop," Shane chuckled.

"WE were too poor for Jiffy Pop," Josie said, lost in a memory. "Jiffy Pop was a special treat.like when I got all A's or something." She shook her head, as if she remembered where she was.

"You never talk about yourself much, do you?" Shane asked.

"I don't like to," she said, shrugging before she dropped the dirty dishes in the sink and grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave. "With 2 minutes to spare," she joked. Josie shook the bag, and grabbed a large bowl out of Shane's cupboard. She poured the contents of the bag into it, grabbed a couple of cans of Coke from the fridge. "What we need are some cookies," she mused.

"Yeah. Chocolate chip ones," Shane said dreamily.

"I'll con Chris into making us some," Josie said, settling herself in and grabbing a handful of popcorn as he hit the play button on the remote.

Shane stared at her for a moment. "Chris?" he asked incredulously. "As in 'Jericho'? Tall guy? Blond hair? Big mouth?"

"He's completely domesticated," she said. "He cooks, he irons. He even sews. And what that boy can do with pork chops...mmmm." She chewed her popcorn thoughtfully. "I think every girl should have a Canadian houseboy of her very own," she declared. "Let's make that company policy."

"Oh, please," Shane muttered, trying to hide his jealousy.

 

Half-way through the movie, Josie noticed Shane nodding off. "Mister McMahon? Shane? Are you OK?"

"Huh--yeah, I'm fine," he managed to get out between huge yawns.

Five minutes later, Shane was fast asleep on the couch again, head on her shoulder.

"Mister McMahon?" Josie shook his shoulder gently. "Shane?"

"Hmm--wha--'m up," he mumbled.

Josie slipped the remote from his relaxed hand. "Um, I think it's way past your bedtime, little boy," she said, shutting the movie off.

"It's not finished!" Shane whined.

"But you ARE," Josie pointed out. "Come on, off to bed with you."

Shane wanted to pout, but he yawned instead. "Come tuck me in?" he asked.

Josie swallowed hard. It was hard NOT to fall into those deep, dark brown pools of Shane's eyes, hard not to want to slide into bed with him, just to hold him and comfort him. "Um--very funny," she said, her heart not in sharpening the barb. "Do we need to hold that seminar again?"

"Please?"

Josie sighed. "Go get ready for bed," she said. "I'll clean up out here."

"Promise not to leave?"

"Before I say good-night? Yes, I promise." Suddenly, she knew how Chris felt, cajoling her into bed after movie night.

She rinsed the dishes from dinner and placed them in the dishwasher, along with the popcorn bowl. She wiped down counters, cleaned the table and generally tried to return the room to the condition she had found in it when she arrived. She started chewing on her bottom lip. It was a two story condo.and she was sure Shane's bedroom was UPSTAIRS, but how on earth was he going to manage those stairs without help?

"Jo?" Shane's voice sounded shaky. "You out there still?"

"Um, yes, Mister McMahon. Where are you?"

"Spare bedroom."

Josie turned to follow the sound of his voice. It came from a smaller bedroom on the ground floor that Shane was putting to use as a sick room. She poked her head into the room. "I've finished up--I'm sure the aide can run the dishwasher."

"You promised to tuck me in," he said petulantly.

"You're acting like a spoilt brat," Josie said critically.

"I AM a spoilt brat," Shane teased. "Besides, didn't you promise that if I was exceedingly bad, you'd tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?"

Josie was startled that Shane had remembered the flippant remark. It seemed a whole other lifetime since she had said that. She sat on the edge of the bed. "You're right. I did promise and you ARE being bad. And I keep my promises." She pulled the blankets up to Shane's chest. "There once was a bad little boy named Shane O'Mac, who never knew when to quit and ALWAYS talked back, so one day, he wanted to play, with the little girl across the way, but she didn't particularly like smart-asses, and instead he ended up with a smack and wack and forty lashes across his back."

"You're a funny lady, you know that?" Shane yawned.

"I promised a story. I didn't promise what kind of a story."

Shane chuckled.

"Good night, Mister McMahon." Josie moved to stand up, but Shane laid his hand on hers, stopping her.

"Jo? I just wanted to say I had a great time tonight." His eyes were half-closed with fatigue, but he wanted to get this out. "You--you mean a lot to me. Really."

Josie felt the familiar panic rise in her throat.

"Please, don't run," Shane said sleepily. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Josie swallowed hard. "You're the one who should be worried about getting hurt," she said. "You should talk to D. Louis Jackson and hear what he has to say about me."

"D. Louis Jackson is full of shit," Shane replied in an even more quiet voice. "Whatever happened at Jackson-Coe? That's the past. It only has power over you if you let it."

Josie pulled away. "I should go." She gave Shane's hand a gentle squeeze. "Get some rest."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yes. But only if you have some more of that barbecued chicken thing waiting."

He smiled sleepily. "Will do. G'night, Jo."

"Good night, Mister McMahon."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Josie, take a chance. It could be the best thing that ever happens to you."
> 
>  _'Or the worst blunder I ever make,'_ she thought...

"It'll be FUN, Josie," Chris pleaded. Over weeks since the disastrous SummerSlam, Josie and Chris were very close friends. He saw it as his duty in life to get Josie to crack a smile for longer than thirty seconds. This night was a very important part of that plan. "We're going dancing." Jericho took her hand. "I KNOW how much you love to dance."

"Chris, no, I can't...I have so many reports to finish now that Sh--Mister McMahon is clear to come back full time."

Chris sighed. "There's that word again...can't. What has Uncle Chris said about that word? Strap on your dancing shoes, missy."

"You are impossible, Jericho," Josie sighed.

"That's why you love me, babe," Chris said. "Promise me you'll go."

"I promise," Josie said. "I'm late, I have to get upstairs to marketing."

After she cuffed him in the head and walked away, Chris pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Shane-o! Dude, party at the Limelight, my man, you in? Come on! We'll make it your 'welcome back, bastard-boss-of-mine' party...cool. we're pulling out all the stops. First round's on you, money-bags. Yeah...great. Later."

Jericho cut the call off then hit another number on the speed dial. "Matt? Chris, lemme talk to Amy. Hey, Ames, plan's in motion. Yeah, go doll her up. Make SURE she wears something peach. Yeah, it is gonna be great." Chris nodded to himself. He was sick and tired of Shane and Josie dancing around each other. Tonight would push one of them into confessing their true feelings. He just wondered which one of them would crack first...Josie, Shane--

 

Or himself.

 

The Limelight was hopping when Lita, Matt, Jeff, Chris and Josie walked in the door. The loud, beat of dance music rocked the floor under their feet.

"Now, THIS is what I'm talking about!" Chris exclaimed. He took Josie's hand. "Take me for a spin, will ya, Fred?"

"You're a brat, Ginger," Josie said, allowing herself to get dragged onto the dance floor.

"You look GREAT," Chris said. Casual did wonders for Josie; a peach crop sweater showed off her perfect stomach, the jeans were tight, but not too tight, her hair was loose and curly, with some kind of streaks that Amy put in and her make-up was just right. "If I were bad, I'd flirt with you."

"Do it and DIE, bub," she teased back.

The evening got louder with the addition of several more wrestlers and their wives and girlfriends and boyfriends and husbands. Drinks were passed around copiously and though Josie tried to pass on the first few rounds before long she was pleasantly buzzed. She hadn't danced this much in years. She quickly became the most sought after dance partner after Stacy and Sharmell. She danced with Chris several times, as well as both the Hardys. She was surprised to learn that queit, staid, Lance Evers was an amazing dancer and of course, there was her favorite dance partner, Chavo Guerro Jr., who seemed to be in complete synch with her moves and and her mood.

A loud cheer emanated from the front. "Yo, the guest of honor is here," Jeff called out. "Hey, man, how's it hangin'?"

"It hangs pretty good, Jeffy. Whazzup, gang?"

"SHANE!" the collective group called out a la Cheers.

Josie's eyes widened, then she smacked Jericho in the arm.

"OW!"

"Chris, you---why didn't you tell me HE was coming?" Josie could barely take her eyes off Shane. The cane abandoned, the almost perpetual limp gone, he was back to his normal dapper browns--brown turtleneck, mocha jeans, brown loafers and the ever persistent trademarked 'Shane O'Mac' smirk. He was doing what he did best, meeting and greeting. There had been sort of a pall over the whole company as they waited for Shane to get back to full speed. There was an energy that had been missing and with Shane back on his feet, that energy was back three thousand-fold.

"Want to dance, pretty lady?" a voice asked her.

"Sure, Chavo," she said, glad to have something to distract her. "I love Ricky Martin."

Shane's eyes roved the room, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw Josie dancing with Chavo Geurro to La Vida Loca. _'DAMN. Now that is sexy.'_ She was dolled up with make up on, hair down, her stomach peeping out every so often. And she could dance. Well he knew she could dance. The event at the Omni seemed a lifetime ago, and this was hardly a proper foxtrot or waltz. She looked hot dancing like this. He licked his lips. _'Next one, you're mine.'_

Josie was watching Shane watching her dance with Chavo. _'Smug bastard,'_ the imp in her said. _'You want some of this, don't you?'_ Then she concentrated on dancing with Chavo. Chavo was a GREAT dancer and she had fun with him. 

"You look great, Josie," Chavo said.

"Thanks."

"Shane can't keep his eyes off you, y'know," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh GOD...not another one..."

"Blame your best friend over there." He motioned over to Chris.

"Remind me never to tell him anything ever again," Josie whined.

As Cup of Life started, Shane tapped Chavo on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" Shane said.

To Josie's horror and secret thrill, Chavo stepped aside. "Here ya go, boss."

She had to put up at least a token protest, didn't she? It was almost expected. She'd hate to disappoint him, after all. "You think I'm gonna do this, Mister--"

"You call me Mister McMahon tonight, you're fired," he said. "Then'll you'll HAVE to call me Shane." His eyes glittered nearly black. He took her by the hand. "You know you want it," he added mimicking the song's lyrics

She sighed and shook her head. Oh well, there was no way of getting out of it, she was going to see how much he was actually aty full speed. "Here we go," she said.

Shane didn't really salsa all that well but Josie was the best partner. She went where he 'told' her to with his body and he was inspired. With that amber hair whipping around and the lyrics to the song going, Shane McMahon didn't much care that his actual dance moves weren't completly up to specs. The groove was about getting as close to your partner without needless contact. 

Josie's internal imp decided there was not such thing as 'needless' contact. She slid a hand down Shane's back, and up again.

 _'Oh, it's like that, is it?'_ Shane thought. _'Two can play that game...'_ He rocked her hips in time with the music, making sure his fingertips brushed her denim-encased hips. They switched from salsa to rumba to tango without thought. In one section, Josie had her leg wrapped around Shane's hip, and he swung her upper body around, away, then pulled her back so that she hit his chest HARD. "Give yet?" he asked.

"In your dreams," she shot back.

Shane definitely began to understand the concept of the tango being a stylized bullfight. Her arms locked when he wanted; she turned into pure satin when he didn't. How he didn't trip was a miracle, their feet were moving so fast. He spun her so that her back was against his front. He certainly didn't even give a damn that she could feel his burgeoning erection...and when she shimmied down then up, Shane forgot how to breathe. He pulled her back around before she could do any real damage. Arms locked, the matador and the bull, jockeying for position, eyes locked one each other.

Josie never knew eyes like Shane's could change color. Every so often, during a meeting while she was taking dictation or just at random moments, she would lock eyes with him like this...and they were always this same color--near black, smoldering. Feral...aroused? For all of her fighting herself and reservations, she had to admit something to herself in this moment:

Shane McMahon was a goddamned sexy man.

 

"Oh."

"MY."

"GAWD."

"Christopher Irvine, what the hell have you DONE?" Lita said.

"Man, that ain't dancing," Matt snickered. "That, that is vertical SEX."

"No shit," Chris snapped.

"Are you OK, Chris?" Jeff asked. He was about the only person in the bar keyed into Chris as opposed to the couple on the dance floor.

Chris glared at him and stormed off to the bar.

 

"You give yet?" Shane asked.

"Make me," Josie replied.

Shane leaned closed, slipped one hand along her back in time with the music and whispered, "Baby, you have no IDEA how bad I wanna make you." He spun her out away from him. "You smell good."

"You ALWAYS smell good," the imp said. Josie was in too much shock to answer or stop whatever this was from going on.

"Oh, she notices," Shane smirked. She spun her, keeping his hand on her waist as he did, getting off on the shiver she gave. "You like when I touch you," he said huskily.

 _'Oh NO...not the voice, not the voice.'_ Thankfully the song ended before she could answer Then Aerosmith's Pink started. 'Oh NO!' and Josie turned to find Chris. She saw him at the bar. He gave her a weak grin, then motioned to the speakers. "SON OF A--"

"Huh?"

"My supposed best friend, Mister Jericho nee Irvine," Josie said. "He just set me up," she said.

Shane pulled her closer and asked, 'Um, can we finish this dance first please before you go break his walls down?" he asked. "I LOVE this song."

Josie blinked as Shane moved her around the floor in an easy two-step, his hand on her back, his hips guiding her. _'And such nice hips he has,'_ she thought wickedly. And he DID smell good and she inched a little closer.

"You--you may not want to do that," Shane whispered in her ear.

"Why not?" Josie asked.

"Because you might just find out HOW much I love this song," Shane replied.

Just because the imp was still in control, Josie did just the opposite. "My goodness," she said as she met up with something rather formidable against her stomach. "Is that all my fault...Shane?"

Shane let out a low growl, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. Hard. Brusingly hard. Months of longing were built up in that one kiss. Shane was hungry for her; he needed her like he needed air. He ripped himself away, realizing what he was doing and WHERE he was doing it. He grabbed Josie by the hand. "We need to the talk. NOW."

"Let go of--"

"Josie...shut the hell up."

Everyone in the room looked at Chris. Chris looked at the door, his face a cross between being smugly pleased and someone ripping his heart out of his chest and pounding on it.

 

"Let go of me, you big JERK!" Josie was livid. JOSIE was firmly back in control at this point and Josie was none too pleased about several things:

A: her best friend in the world set her up. The entire evening was designed to get her defenses down enough to get her in a compromising position with Shane McMahon. Not the under any other circumstance, she would have minded, but the aforementioned Shane McMahon happened to be her boss.

B: She walked right into the compromising position with that aforementioned boss BEFORE she realized she was being set up.

C: Half the company SAW her in the compromising position with the aforementioned boss.

Oi.

"Get in the car," Shane growled.

"NO."

"Jo, get in the fucking car," Shane ordered.

"Mister McMahon..."

Shane sighed, stopped and picked her up.

"PUT ME DOWN!! GODAMMIT SHANE, YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOUR--OOOF!" Her tirade came to an end as Shane opened the door of his Mercedes and threw her in. He locked the door with the remote, clicked it once to disarm the alarm, then once again to let himself in. He started the car.

"What the hell you do think you're doing?" she demanded

"I'm driving," he said between gritted teeth. "Shut up."

"Mister --"

Shane didn't turn his head to look at her. "You," he said, "just stood there with your tongue down my throat for at least three minutes. I think I can safely say we are very damn well past the 'Mister McMahon' phase, don't you?" He pealed out of the parking lot.

It was nearly ten minutes before she dared say anything again. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know." Shane jabbed a button to power up the CD player. Marc Cohn filled the interior of the car.

"That's--I love this song," Josie said.

"I know you do," Shane said. He finally pulled off the road.

"Where are we?"

"I told you. I don't know. I just wanted to get away from there...get you someplace where you couldn't run from me anymore." Shane turned the engine off, but kept the power on so the music could continue to play. He leaned his head against the headrest.

Josie couldn't help being fascinated by the curve of his neck, his Adam's apple highlighted by the moonlight.

"Why do you run from me, Jo?" Shane asked plaintively. "I love you so bad I do crazy things and I don't know how to make you stand still six seconds to even LISTEN to me."

Josie blinked. Love? When had that happened? And was it coincidence that Fisher had just stated playing on the stereo?

"The moment I laid eyes on you," Shane replied. "I just didn't know it yet. And YES...it's a coincidence."

Josie realized she had spoken out loud. "I--I don't know what to say."

"Yes, you do," Shane said. "Say you love me back."

Josie looked at him moments longer until it hurt too to watch his beautiful profile in the moonlight. "I can't," she whispered. "It's not right."

"Do you know how I spend my nights, MISS Donnelly?" Shane asked. "I think of ways to get to you. What can Shane do to make you mad...cause that's the only way I can get a response out of you. For anything. Piss you off, so I can see that fire in your eyes, see the vein in your neck throb...then I think about how that vein would feel under my mouth, while we're making love on a beach somewhere." Shane groaned. "I'm so crazy in love, I don't know what to do anymore. Hell, I should quit...you've been running WCW more than I have in the last three months." Finally he moved. He turned his head enough to look at her. She had her head down, her feet pulled up on his expensive leather bucket seat. She sat there studying her knees. His heart nearly broke. He'd heard the description from Chris enough times, but to see it... "Jo...Josephine, talk to me."

"What you want me to say?"

"I already told you. Say 'Shane, I love you'."

"I told you. I can't do that."

"Why? You do it so many other ways. What's the difference?"

Josie's eyes moved to look at him.

"Only a complete NUTJOB or someone totally in LOVE would willingly jump into a ring with Paul Levesque a.k.a Hunter Hearst Helmsley when he's got both a steel chair AND a sledgehammer at his disposal," Shane chuckled. At her sheepish look he said, "I finally watched the tape. You--you were like an avenging angel in there, y'know. You were gorgeous. And since I know you're not insane--"

"I'm starting to doubt that assessment..."

"I figured that maybe," he continued ignoring her statement, "...JUST maybe...you could be a little bit in love with me."

Josie sighed. "Damn it all, Christopher," she muttered

Shane smiled. "Hey, he's your best friend..."

"Well...yeah." Josie swallowed hard. "But, you're pretty darned close to it."

Shane blinked.

"You...tell me, I look pretty all the time. You tease me. You make me eat lunch and take the day off to go shopping. You even buy my favorite chocolate..."

"That you promptly throw away..." he pointed out.

"Actually, I stopped doing that weeks ago," Josie admitted. "I just take the candy and chuck the box in the pail to piss you off."

Shane laughed. He laughed long and hard. "Baby, we were made for each other."

Josie shook her head. "Shane, this just isn't DONE." She stopped when she heard him groan. "What? Is it the ribs? I TOLD you, you shouldn't have picked me up..."

"Do you have ANY idea what it does to me when you say my name?" Shane asked her. He leaned closer. "I swear to God, by the time you get to the 'n', I'm---affected. It makes me want you so bad, it hurts."

Josie turned her head. She didn't want to see those eyes, those deep chocolate eyes turn pitch black.

Shane traced one finger along her arm. "Jo...I love you..."

"You have no idea who I am to love me," she said.

"So give me that chance," he said. He managed to take one of her hands in his own. "Look, this isn't gratitude for saving my life. It isn't thanks for being there all these weeks, taking care of me... godammit, Jo, that's the point. You saved me...in so many ways. Look at me..."

"I can't."

"Why now?"

"Because if I do," she whispered, "...we can't go back. I'm scared, Shane."

"I'm scared too...scared I'm gonna lose the best thing I ever had before I even get a chance to know that." Shane reached one hand over. "Baby, I love you...I want to be with you. Let me."

"I...Shane, it's not you. It was never you, it's me...I--" She felt that funny hiccup in the throat again...the one that usually announced a crying jag. _'Damn you to hell, Chris Irvine,'_ she cursed silently for bringing her defenses down. "Damn you, Shane McMahon," she said instead as she did actually start to cry.

Shane reached over the gearshift to pull her into his arms. He pulled her into his lap, held her while she cried, let her bury her head in the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. He stroked her hair, cooed to her and kept his hands on her back.

When she was done, and came up for air, Shane McMahon was 100% hopelessly in love.

Josie clung to Shane a moment longer, then pulled back to look at him. "I want to give you what you want, Shane."

"You got the first word and the last word right..."

"You really are persistent."

"You know the answer to that, too."

"Shane--"

"I LOVE when you call me that."

"I...I wish...oh God, I'm so confused."

"You're not the only one, babe," Shane admitted. He leaned his head against hers. "If I sold the company, would it help?"

"It might," Josie admitted. "It's the employer-employee thing, Shane. I learned my lesson the hard way...please believe me when I say that. I KNOW it can't be done...it's not proper...it's not RIGHT."

Shane smiled. "Fine. You're fired."

"WHAT!?"

"For the next five minutes, you no longer work for WCW, an extension of WWFE Inc. and I, Shane Brandon McMahon, am no longer the person who signs your paycheck." He leaned back. "Go to town."

"I'm fired?"

"For another four minutes and forty-five seconds, yes."

Josie grabbed Shane by the shirt, dragged him close and kissed him. She threaded her fingers through Shane's dark hair, surprised it was as soft and thick as in her fantasies. She could feel the faint growl in the back of his throat, and pulled away, only to replace her lips along his jaw, then behind his ear, and along the side of his neck. She moved back to his lush lips for another attack, glad that he was ready for it. He still tasted like the whisky she had seen him drinking earlier and something more exotic and flavorful. She sucked on the pouty lower lip that had been driving her insane for months.

Shane was taking the same kind of liberties...his hands slid up her bare back, tracing the curves he found, dipping one finger just underneath the waistband of her jeans to stroke the soft skin there. When his lips were free, he leisurely dropped kisses anywhere he could reach. He couldn't shiver enough at how good she felt this close, how good she smelled, how sweet she tasted.

"How much longer?" she panted.

"Mmmm...does it matter, babe?"

"I love you, Shane Brandon McMahon."

Shane took a deep breath, fighting tears. "Oh, baby," he whispered. "Jo, I love you."

"And that's why we can't do this...not ever."

"WHAT!?"

"Shane, we can't...your reputation."

"Fuck my reputation," he growled. "I love you, I want to be with you and that's that. Shane 2:14 says 'Love is blind'."

"But the media's NOT, Shane," Josie pointed out. "The Board's NOT. The stockholders AREN'T."

"My SISTER conducts her love affairs in public," Shane pointed out.

"Your sister isn't in charge of a multi-million dollar company..."

"Actually, she is. Also...I got leverage."

"And what leverage is that?"

"The fact that I KNOW you love me." Shane smirked. "I'm relentless...you KNOW that. And what you won't tell me, I'll just black-mail out of Mister Ayatollah Y2J."

Josie glared. "You wouldn't DARE!"

"After all this time and you don't know me better than that?" Shane turned the car back on. "Scoot back over," he said. "I can't drive with you on my lap...I'll get too distracted."

Josie chuckled. She made it back to the passenger side of the car without mishap and Shane began threading his way back to the Limelight. Somewhere during the ride, their fingers ended up entwined on the gearshift of the Mercedes. Josie loved the play of the muscles in Shane's hands as he shifted. Shane loved how warm her hand was on top of his.

Shane pulled into the parking spot. He didn't want this to end. The minute that door opened, he was back in the 'Mister McMahon' doghouse. He couldn't go back...no. He WOULDN'T go back there. Not for anything.

He turned the car off slowly, and just as slowly he turned to look at the woman seated next to him. For some odd reason, he never noticed the sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks before. He never realized how long her hair was. It swept her shoulders and it filled with golden and auburn highlights, even in the harsh streetlights. He could see the glimmer of gold in the hazel eyes, and he was mesmerized by the up and down of her breathing. Each curl seemed to sparkle in the night, as if stars had dropped from the sky to light in her hair. _'How beautiful can one person be?'_ he asked himself.

"Aren't we going in?" she asked after long minutes. Josie knew what he was doing. She was doing it herself. Trying to make the moment last just a little longer, sneaking glances of Shane's long lashes, fighting not to lose herself in his near black eyes.

"I--not yet," he said. "I don't want to let this go."

Josie nodded.

"Not ever."

Josie nodded again, then dropped her head.

"I could fire you until tomorrow morning," Shane joked.

Josie gave him a glare.

Shane chuckled. "Just kidding."

Josie sighed. "Shane, what are we going to do?"

"I told you what we're going to do. I'm going to love you and you're going to love me."

Josie sighed again. "Why am I even surprised anymore? You're being unrealistic."

"You should try it sometime," he shot back playfully. "It would do you some good."

Josie leveled Shane with 'The Look'.

"Um, Jo?"

"Yes?"

"'The Look' loses all effectiveness when I know the if I tickle that spot on the curve of your back, you meow like a kitten."

Josie sighed again. "I knew this was a bad idea," she muttered. At Shane's look of anguish as quickly added, "...I'm kidding." She was shocked at how fast his expression changed from pain to pleasure.

"Does that mean I win?"

"That means...I'm thinking about it," she said. Before he could protest, she held up a hand. "That's the best I can do right now, Shane. I know you want more."

Shane nodded, visibly disappointed. "I can wait," he said after a long silence. "I waited this long...I can wait a little bit longer." He reached over and cupped Josie's cheek in his hand. "But let's get ONE thing straight. From now on, no more Mister McMahon. After everything you've done for me, you have earned the right to call me by name."

"But..."

Shane silenced her with a quick kiss. "I'll take a promise on that. Promise me...from now on, you call me 'Shane'."

"I promise." Josie said.

"Now, uncross your fingers and say it like you mean it," Shane teased.

"Damn you to hell," Josie growled.

"That happens only if you make me wait too long," Shane replied. "I have a proposition for you."

Josie raised one eyebrow.

"You have until Vengance to PROVE we can't work."

The other eyebrow went up.

"Come on...I know you're already trying to figure out how to get Triple H. You figure it out and you got it. But as SOON as the pay-per-view is over, if you haven't proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt that we don't belong together, then I get to pursue you...US. Relentlessly."

"Are you sure you want the prize?" Josie asked.

"Oh yeah, I want this prize," Shane said. "I can't wait to unwrap it, either."

Josie blushed.

Shane leaned over and brushed her ear with his lips. "I'll leave THAT to your imagination for now," he purred. "But just so you know...you're mine already."

"So you think."

"Even for your smarts, babe, you don't know HALF of the resources I got," Shane said. "I'm Shane McMahon and I get what I want."

"Cocky bastard," she said, shaking her head.

Shane leaned closed and claimed her mouth with his own. "And you love me that way," he whispered into her lips.

 

Chris turned as he saw Amy, Matt and Jeff's heads snap to the door. "Hey kids," he said nonchalantly to the pair entering.

"Whazzup, Chris?" Shane waltzed into the room, his arm around Josie's waist.

Chris arched one of his eyebrows up.

"I'm on a lease plan," Shane explained. "She's trying me out, with an option to buy."

"God, sometimes you are so clever you make me sick," Josie groaned. She didn't make a move to take Shane's arm from around her waist. "As for YOU, Mister Irvine..."

"You're in for it now, Chris," Matt called.

"It was for your own good, babe," Chris said. "Admit it...feel better now that it's all out in the open?"

Shane and Josie looked at each other sheepishly.

"GOOD. OK, boys and girls...it's PAY-DAY."

"Pay day?" Shane and Josie asked in unison.

"That's right-pay day." Chris pulled out a sheet. "I have the pool sheet right here. And...looks like the winner is...ME!"

"Pool sheet?" Josie asked.

"On how long it was going to take for you and Shane to finally hook up," Chris said. "Whoever got the closest date, won the pool...and that would be..."

"Uh, I hate to burst your bubble there, high roller," Shane lied, "but I don't think you heard me. I'm on a lease-to-buy option right now."

"HUH?"

"I have until Revenge to prove that Shane and I can't work," Josie explained. "If I can't come up with a valid argument, then I lose the right to object to Shane's relentless courtship."

"And if I read this sheet right," Matt said, that means the winner would be...ah SHIT."

"Pay now, or pay later," Chris said. "But, mmmMmm, pay you will," he added in his worst Yoda voice.

"So you guys are what?" Jeff asked. "Hanging out?"

"We're...seeing each other," Shane said. "For now. Keep the second weekend in August next year free, though."

"Why?"

"That's when we're getting married."

Josie choked. "Excuse you?"

"You heard me...Connecticut's great in August."

"Jinx it, why don't you," Chris muttered.

"You're awfully confident," Josie said to Shane.

"I told you: I get what I want. And I--want--you." He accented the last three words with kisses to the tip of her nose.

"Shane-O, I hate to break up the love-fest," Chris said, taking Josie's hand, "but I believe this young lady owes me a dance or six."

"You're lucky I even let you touch me," she said as 'Wonderful Tonight' played over the speakers.

Chris took her on a slow tour of the dance floor. "It was for your own good," he said, twirling her around. "Isn't this easier...knowing that he KNOWS you can't take your eyes off him?"

Josie glared at Chris. "I can too take my eyes off him."

"Not for longer than ten seconds," he teased. He smirked when she dragged her eyes away from Shane to glare at him. "See?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous," Josie snapped.

"Well...I am. Sort of." Chris and Josie had a rule about being brutally honest with each other. Being able to hang onto the truth in their business was a novelty...a pleasant one. "Right now, I still get you all to myself. When you and Shane finally get together, I'm gonna be out of the picture."

"Is that what you think of me, Chris?" Josie fumed. "You're my freakin' best friend, you idiot. There will always be a place for you. ALWAYS."

"Forgive my cynicism, Jos," Chris said, 'but something tells me once you become the boss's main squeeze, he's going to be pretty stingy with the time you're out of his sight."

"Is it ME, or are all you lifetime wrestling types THAT arrogant?"

"Nope...we're that arrogant." Chris smiled sheepishly. "It keeps us from getting our hearts broken on a daily basis."

Josie looked at Chris seriously, and laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't be sad, Lion Heart," she said, slipping her arms around his waist.

Chris rested his head on top of hers. "I'm nothing but happy for you, angel," he said, kissing her hair. "You know all I want is for you to be happy."

"You're my anchor, Chris," she said. "You know I'm lost without you."

Chris swallowed hard. "I'm lost without you too, Jos."

 

Over in the corner, Shane sat, nursing a vodka tonic, watching Josie dance with Chris. 'Dance. If you can call it that. You couldn't get a crowbar between them,' he thought ruefully. Shane LIKED Chris, but he wasn't stupid. If it was clear to everyone around Shane that he was in love with Josie, it was just as obvious to Shane that so was Chris Irvine.

 

"Whoops," Chris said.

"What?"

"Shane's got that 'somebody's playing with my toy' look on his face," Chris said.

"What the--we're just dancing. You and I are friends, and we're dancing. Big deal," Josie said.

"I think the boss has the wrong idea about me," Jericho half-teased.

"Stop being so melodramatic."

Chris moved them a half turn, so that Josie could see Shane out of the corner of her eye. "You tell me," he said.

Josie glanced. Shane was sitting in at corner table, silently swirling the liquid in his glass, sipping it, and keeping his eyes level on Josie and Chris. His lips were pulled in a thin, long line, and his brows were slightly furrowed.

"He's debating on whether he should behave and be noble or to storm over here and beat his chest," Chris snickered.

"That's not funny, Chris" Josie said.

"It's not meant to be, Josie," Chris replied. "Shane's a great guy, but never forget he's a McMahon. He's never been allowed to forget he's a McMahon and when that McMahon temper even THINKS it's been crossed, that big teddy bear turns into a raging lion. NEVER forget that."

Josie laid her head against Chris' shoulder. "Promise to come play lion tamer if I need it?"

Chris smiled as he dropped another kiss on her head. "Any time, Miss D."

Josie chuckled. "Only YOU, Jericho," she said, "can take a Hallmark moment and fuck it up six ways to Sunday."

Chris gave a beaming grin. "It's gift. Want to take another spin?"

Josie shook her head. "I'm going to find Lita, Sharm and Ty. I'm in the mood for chick talk."

"Oh, Jesus," Chris moaned. "All you want to do is gloat about what a good kisser McMahon is."

Josie smirked. "They don't call him the Boy Wonder for nothing you know."

"I am going to vomit now," Chris shuddered. "Scoot. I'll go keep the once and future heir apparent company."

"Have I mentioned you're not half bad, Irvine?" She sauntered over to the table where Amy was sitting. "Play nice."

"Don't I always?" He smirked at her as Amy grabbed her by the wrist. His smirk dropped off slowly as he went over to sit with Shane. He plopped down in the chair, watching Josie and the other girls giggling like teenagers. "I already know what you're going to say, Shane-O," he started, "so let's just get the pissing contest over before she gets back here and kicks both our asses."

Shane gave Chris a sidelong glance. "Fine. Don't think I don't know."

"Know what, Boy Wonder?"

Shane shuddered. "I hate that nickname. Stop trying to make time with girl."

"Jesus Christ, you ARE a fucking walking cliché...and she's NOT your girl. Not yet." Chris turned to level a steely glare on Shane. "If you hurt her, I'll rip your fucking heart out and feed it to you."

Shane snorted. "THAT was real original. Get in my way, and I'll destroy you. Clear?"

"Crystalline." Chris got up. "If you'll excuse me...I'd like to be alone with some thoughts."

Shane nodded. "Chris."

Chris stopped in his tracks. "What?" he snapped.

Shane looked at him seriously. "You've been good for her...and to her." Shane held out a hand. "May the best man win."

Chris looked at the outstretched hand. "You have GOT to be shittin' me," he said finally.

"Hey, she's the one who has to come up with the reasons why we can't be together," Shane said. "If one of those reasons is she might be in love with another man then far be it from me to stack the deck in my favor." Shane smiled at Chris. "But let's get one thing straight--this is not a game to me, not by a long shot. SHE is not a game to me. But I play to win. You know that."

"Game on," Chris said, and shook Shane's hand.

"By the way," Shane said quietly. "If YOU hurt her, I'll rip YOUR fucking heart out and replay the footage on the next week's Nitro."

"Bring it, boss o'mine," Chris said. "Bring it."

 

"Josie, you ready to go?" Chris asked. It was about one in the morning and true to Jericho's word, it had turned into a real 'welcome back' party for Shane. No-one wouldn't even let him pay for his own drinks, even thought Shane McMahon could more than afford all of their bar tabs twenty or thirty times over.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm tired."

"You had a big night..."

"One word out of you and I'll start telling everybody about you favorite college sport of water--"

"Point taken," Chris said hastily. "Boys and girls, we are out." Chris shook hands with most his friends.

Amy leaned over. "Call me tomorrow, OK?" she whispered.

Josie nodded. She touched Chris's arm. "Give me a second, OK?"

"Sure, Miss D," he said lightly. He held the grin on his face only for as long as she faced him. As soon as she moved toward Shane, his grin dropped.

 

"I'm going to go," Josie said to the group sitting at the table with Shane.

Shane stood up. "I can drive you home," he said, a wistful note in his voice.

"I came with Chris," Josie said, "and it would be really rude of me not to leave with him." She reached up on tiptoe to give Shane a peck on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow, OK?"

"No...but it will do for now," Shane teased. He left a more lingering kiss on her cheek. "Remember, the offer to keep you fired for tonight still stands..."

"Probably not the only thing still standing," Josie commented archly. "Good night, Shane."

Shane sighed. "Night, Jo."

 

"When are you going to tell her?" Amy asked him.

"Never," Chris replied. "She deserves everything that Shane can give her and I can't."

Amy touched Chris's shoulder. "There are a lot of other things besides money that you can give her, Chris."

"Sure, Amy...that and a bottle of gin will get me a playmate for the night." Chris said bitterly.

"Are you sure you should drive her home tonight?" Amy asked.

"I'll behave myself, if that's what you mean."

"It's more than that, Chris. You're hurting right now. What are you going to tell her is bothering you when she asks?"

"I'll figure something out...I've hid it from her this long, Amy. I can hide it forever if I have to. Shut up, here she comes." Chris's bright smile returned. "Ready to roll, Miss D?"

"At your leisure, m'lord," she said grandly.

Chris smirked and pointed to Matt. "You better remember that, Hardy," he said. "The words 'm'lord' left her lips and were sent in MY direction."

"Got it. Get outta here, man..."

"Night, Amy, night, Matthew," Josie said. She reached up and dragged Jeff down for a kiss on the cheek. "Night, Rainbow Brite."

"Night, sunshine," Jeff said. "You take care, hear?"

Josie nodded. "Let's go, Sir Laughs-a-Lot," she said to Chris.

"Oh, you mock me now," he teased as they walked out the door.

The drive home was quiet. Josie tried to get her thoughts connected and organized.

"You OK?" Chris asked.

"Not really," she admitted. "I don't know what to do."

"You love Shane...Shane loves you," Chris said. "I thought it would be rather academic."

Josie could swear she heard a shade of bitterness in her best friend's voice. "Christopher?"

"Yes, Josephine?"

"What did Shane say to you?"

Chris sighed. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Chris."

"He didn't say anything, Josie. I swear on the Godfather's Ho Train, he didn't," Chris lied.

Josie gave him a sidelong glare but let the lie go for now. They pulled up in front of her neat little bungalow.

"End of the road, Miss D," Chris teased.

Josie leaned her head back. "Chris...I think I'm making a big mistake."

"With Shane?"

She nodded.

"Honey, if it's love and it feels right, then it's not a mistake," he said. He turned the car off and held her hands. "Baby, Shane is NOT Steven...not every man you meet will take advantage of you and use you. I promise."

"One, I used HIM and two, I'm scared, Chris..."

"Josie, take a chance. It could be the best thing that ever happens to you."

 _'Or the worst blunder I ever make,'_ she thought, looking deep into Chris's eyes. "I still have until Vengence to make up my mind," she said.

"Don't make him wait too long, angel," Chris pointed out, "because a cranky McMahon is a fucking unbearable McMahon."

"Don't I know it," Josie sighed. "Chris, am I insane?" she asked.

"You work in wrestling. Of COURSE you're insane." He smiled and gave her a wink for good measure.

Josie shook her head, a quiet chuckle leaving her lips. "Why I bother, I don't know..." She unbuckled her seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride, Chris."

"You sure you OK?" he asked. "Want me to stay for a while?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "I need to think on my own for this one."

Chris nodded. "You'll call if you need me?" he asked wistfully as she opened the car door.

Josie smiled, leaned over and kissed Chris on the cheek. "Lion Heart, I ALWAYS need you," she said, patting his cheek gently.

Chris blushed.

"Night, Chris," she said.

"Night, Josie." He waited and made sure she got in the house OK. He leaned his head back on the seat rest. _'Ah, shit, Jos,'_ he thought to himself. _'He doesn't deserve you, sweet angel...he doesn't. He's going to get you, play with you, and put you on the mantelpiece with all his other trophies when he's done...his perfect little wife to match everything in the collection. Dammit, Josie, I love you! I could make you so happy. I KNOW I can. I know you...I know what you love...'_

Chris could feel the tears pricking at his eyes but he wasn't about to let them fall. _'Does he know about your fears? Does he know how you hate yourself for being weak...and how wrong you are? You're not weak...you're the strongest person I know. Dammit, I want to love you and I don't even have the courage to tell you. Some Lion Heart I am.'_ Chris started the car before he did something incredibly stupid. "Soon, angel," he said aloud. "Soon, I'll grow a set and I'll tell you...'cause if it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll get." Chris pulled out, heading home.

 

Josie had been watching him from the darkened living room of her bungalow the entire time. She had no idea why he was sitting there but he did. And it only gave her something else to the long list of things in her head she needed to sort out before December.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first wrestling fan fic. It has been highly edited from its original Yahoo Groups postings to correct continuity errors made at the time and to fill in what was a very quickly written narrative. Because of when the story is set (2001) the WWE is still called the WWF, the InVasion story line has only just been started and (WARNING) Chris Beniot is still alive. Even with the events surrounding his death, he was an integral part of Chris Irvine's life and career and so I chose not to edit his few mentions out of the fic, since he is not integral to the overall plot moving forward.


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